<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>In Between by Planthoughts</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28831656">In Between</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Planthoughts/pseuds/Planthoughts'>Planthoughts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BAMF Peter Hale, BAMF Talia Hale, Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Dark Sheriff Stilinski, F/M, Full Shift Werewolves, Good Deucalion (Teen Wolf), Happy Ending, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Recovery, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, The Hale Family (Teen Wolf) Lives, Trauma, Werewolf Mates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:07:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>44,170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28831656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Planthoughts/pseuds/Planthoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s not much reason to talk. Sometimes, if he’s quiet enough he thinks his dad forgets him. If he’s quiet enough, and he hopes, Dad will walk right by. Those are good days.</p><p>-</p><p>Peter finds Stiles in the woods.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1724</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscontentedWinter/gifts">DiscontentedWinter</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/7740541">Sanctuary</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscontentedWinter/pseuds/DiscontentedWinter">DiscontentedWinter</a>.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dad leaves finally.</p><p>Stiles knows he got lucky. He could play off the cut on his cheek as a bit of clumsiness, but he doesn't think that he’d be able to get by with much else this week. Dad got embarrassed when the teachers started talking. </p><p>The weather took a turn, but Stiles needed air. The house stank like an old bar, complete with broken glass on the floor.  </p><p>His breath made him look like a smoker. Before Scott moved, they used to pretend to be spies making deals in back rooms, blowing “smoke rings” with their fake cigars while they hashed out “payment.” He doesn’t do that anymore. There’s not much reason to talk. Sometimes, if he’s quiet enough he thinks his dad forgets him. If he’s quiet enough, and he hopes, Dad will walk right by him. Those are good days.</p><p>It feels like a treat.</p><p>The woods behind the house rustle around him. The leaves still crinkle with the paper sound of dry at the end of fall. They haven’t gone soggy with winter yet. The sky’s clear at least. Beacon Hills is big enough to need a Sheriff, big enough to need his dad, but not so big as to worry about light pollution. </p><p>Stiles likes to go to a bluff that sits between the edge of Preserve and the forest that the public has access to, not that security in the Preserve is particularly fierce. His Dad moans about having to deal with Mayor Hale every once in awhile, but mostly her kids and relatives are a welcoming bunch. Stiles thinks the real problem his dad has is in the “new age hippie bullshit” he thinks they’ perpetuate with their “love of nature shit.” </p><p>It never bothered him - to each their own. If they want to live in a compound in the middle of the woods, that’s fine. As long they don’t ask him to drink any murder-koolaide, they can do whatever as far as he's concerned. </p><p>Cute kids though.</p><p>Cora’s in senior year with him. Derek’s probably finishing up college now. The whole family is stupid attractive. Not like him. Even if he could eat everything in sight (he can’t afford it), there’s no way he’d be able to put on any weight. No. All he got out of puberty was height and wide shoulders. The bean pole and bird bones stayed. It didn’t make for an attractive combination, not that the gay scene in Beacon Hills was a thriving one. Not that that mattered at all given his dad’s thoughts on “other people.”</p><p>At least tonight was a nice night with a full moon. His hoodie is a little thin for the weather, but he feels better out here than staying in that house. Maybe tonight he would do it.</p><p>The bluff has always been his favorite because on nights like tonight it's a postcard. The downtown is perfectly framed with dark evergreens. Stars blanket the sky. He could sit and no one would find him. No trails lead here. This place is the only thing in this world that's his. </p><p>It would be a fitting end because of that. Stiles sits, leaning far over the edge. He knows logically that the drop goes down a ways, but in the darkness it doesn't matter. How long would it take before someone notices that he's missing? He didn’t know the answer, and his guess made him even less confident. He had a feeling “a long time” wouldn’t be generous enough. Well, maybe his dad would notice when he ran out of coffee or the trash didn’t get taken out. He’d be mad about the glass if he noticed it. Maybe he’d notice? Stiles didn’t feel liberal with his credit tonight.</p><p>“I wouldn’t think about that sweetheart,” comes a man’s voice. Stiles draws in a shocked breath, and leans away from the side. No one was supposed to know about this place.</p><p>Stiles turns. A man stands at the tree line, watching him. It makes him uncomfortable how okay he feels being watched. Typically, it means nothing good. Attention did not bode well for him, so why want it?</p><p>The man cocks his head. Stiles can't see much - it's too dark, but he's tall and dark haired. Built. </p><p>The man came closer and held a hand out to Stiles. “Why don’t you come with me? We’ll get you warm at the house.”</p><p>Stiles realizes the shivering in his shoulders once the man says something. It’s fine. He’s fine. He doesn’t need anything, including help. Those are all the things he should say. Instead what comes out is, “going, I’m going” in a weak, crackly voice that says more about his loneliness than anything else. </p><p>“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” says the man and Stiles starts to stand as warning bells go off until he finishes with “there’s a lot of blood on your shirt.”</p><p>“Oh,” Stiles says. He’s cold not from the weather then. Standing doesn’t help. His knees buckle and all he can think is “maybe this decision will be taken from me too.”</p><p>-</p><p>It’s bright when he wakes up. The bed’s bigger than anything he’s slept in. Stiles’ feet don’t hang over the edge like the one at home. The room is probably bigger than Dad’s master bedroom. It makes him uncomfortable. The sheets are too white, the windows are too big. There’s nowhere to hide. </p><p>There’s nowhere to hide.</p><p>And then Stiles remembers. The man saw him, and saw him hurt. It wasn’t good. He shouldn’t have left last night, and now someone would tell his dad. He’d get in trouble. There’s no hiding from it. </p><p>Everything begins to dim around him. The room, the bed, the air. He’s going to know. His dad would be so embarrassed, having to cover up for his useless son again. Jesus. He couldn’t breath. </p><p>And then he notices a hand rubbing hard on his chest. There are voices. Stiles still couldn’t breath, but people are with him. They see him. Oh god, they know. The room blurs. He still can't get enough air. Then it gets quiet. </p><p>All he can see is blue. The fist stops rubbing his chest. Instead it grabs his hand, sandwiching it between it and something hot. It moves up and down, up and down. Stiles closes his eyes, and feels the exhales hit his face. The air smelt like the lemon tea his mom used to drink. He took a deep breath.</p><p>His hand feels warm. He takes another breath, and he hears the same voice from last night, “That’s right sweetheart. You’re doing well. Deep breaths.”<br/>
Stiles opens his eyes. Blue eyes attach to a tan face with laugh lines and a strong jaw. It's a good face, but not one he’d encountered before. </p><p>“There you are,” the man smiles. That's nice too. </p><p>Stiles doesn't know how to work his mouth like that anymore, so he just stays still instead. Maybe the man would forget about him if he was quiet enough, and then he could go back to his house that smelled like cheap whiskey. He could stay so quiet in his room that he could fool his last parent into thinking he was dead too. </p><p>Stiles blinks and waits. Peter keeps smiling at him, and holding his hand to his chest. It makes him squirm in a way he isn't comfortable admitting. People weren’t supposed to see him.</p><p>“What’s your name?” the man finally asks. “I’m Peter by the way. I found you last night near the preserve. You were pretty beat up, but my brother-in-law stitched you up. He has a practice in town.”</p><p>He clears his throat, “Stiles. Sorry, sorry for the tr-trouble.” Smooth Stilinski. Peter's expression doesn't change at all though, just holds his hand with more care.</p><p>“It’s no trouble Stiles. I’m glad I could find you in time. There was a nasty bit of glass in your side” and you were leaning over a hundred foot drop goes unspoken. Stiles is happy for that reprieve. </p><p>“I need to go-go home,” Stiles said instead. “My dad, my dad will be angry.” Peter narrows his eyes at that. Stiles panics. It’s a reasonable thing to say he thinks. This is why he can’t talk. There’s rules to all this. People can’t know.</p><p>“Andrew, my brother-in-law, said that he thinks you lost a lot of blood. He wants you to stay for at least the day.” Peter says, still holding his hand.</p><p>Stiles already begins shaking his head, “I can’t, I can’t sorry. My dad.” </p><p>“We can call him if you like? Let him know you’re here?” Peter says it so innocently. It scares Stiles shitless. He hasn’t even said anything, but Peter’s eyes narrow more. The grip on his hand is still light pressed against Peter’s chest though. Stiles focuses on that instead. His chest is still moving slow, up and down, up and down.</p><p>“No, it will be fine. I can, I’ll let him know tomorrow. It'll be fine.” Stiles tries to smile. Based on Peter’s expression, it doesn’t work.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The whole house is bright. And big. Stiles grips the banister as he moves down the polished staircase. You only need to fall down stairs one time to go slow. He doesn’t want to imagine what would happen if he fell, and his side opened up. The doctor spent so much time on him. He wouldn’t want to undo his work and get blood on their clean floors. Stairs are a pain to scrub.</p><p>Peter patiently waits for him at the bottom. The man let him borrow a thick sweater and joggers. He’s still cold, but Peter says it’s normal. Blood loss. Makes sense. </p><p>Stiles gets to the bottom step. They’re at the same height now. Peter smiles, and he doesn’t know why. </p><p>“Ready for breakfast?” Peter asks. Stiles has a feeling it’s not the question he wants to ask. Stiles nods slowly. It’s been ...awhile since he ate something. Lunch at school yesterday? That feels right. Not too bad really.</p><p>Dad wanted him home right after school. He didn’t have time for groceries like he usually did, and couldn’t get dinner ready because he couldn’t get the shopping done. Dad never liked starting a shift hungry. Stiles should have planned better, had something he held back just in case. He would do that next time.</p><p>Stiles doesn't realize he's sat at the table until Peter puts a plate in front of him. </p><p>There’s a lot on there. Scrambled eggs, bacon, potatoes, even a cup of oatmeal with some apples on top. The grease makes him feel a little nauseous, so he stirs up the oatmeal and goes to town. It’s delicious. Cinnamon, honey, apples all taste so fresh. Stiles looks disappointed at the rest of the cup. There’s still a little left, but there’s no way he could manage another bite. </p><p>“Is that all you’re going to eat?” Peter asks. He jumps. Stiles doesn't realize he sat across from him. Cora walks into the kitchen to make a plate. </p><p>“Oh,” She pauses in the door, “What are you doing here?” She sounds rude, but Stiles knows that’s just how her voice sounds. He doesn’t mind. Cora’s honest. </p><p>Cora. </p><p>Cora Hale. He looks at Peter. Peter looks like a Hale - dark hair, tan, bright eyes. Stiles can see the Preserve from the windows. Oh god. His dad would be so mad. He didn’t like the Hales. What if Dad found out he stayed the night?</p><p>“I need to go,” Stiles whispers. He looks at Peter, “My Dad. He doesn’t know I’m here. I need to go.” He scrubs his eyes with one of the sleeves of the sweater. They itch. “I’m going to go.” Stiles stands from the table fast. It’s a rush, but he keeps his legs under him even as the room rotates around him. </p><p>As if on queue, the doctor from last night comes in, Andrew. The Mayor follows behind him. He is going to die. His dad will kill him. The Mayor gives Cora a look, and the teen scurries from the room.</p><p>Stiles sits back down. He’s officially in over his head. </p><p>The Mayor and Andrew talk at him, but he can’t really process what they’re saying. The bacon isn’t hot anymore. White globs of fat stick to the strips. Little drops of the stuff lay on the plate. He’s going to die.</p><p>Stiles blinks. Peter has one of his hands, and isn’t across from him anymore. Andrew’s not at the table either. The Mayor still sits across from him. There’s a crease between her eyebrows. Her set mouth means that she’s mad. He can’t do anything right. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Stiles whispers to the Mayor at her kitchen table, after eating her food. It doesn’t feel like enough, and he closes his eyes. He waits.</p><p>Peter squeezes his hand. “Stiles,” the man says. “Stiles, look at me.”</p><p>Stiles tries. He really does, but he knows he messed up. He doesn’t know the rules here, but everything on the Mayor’s face says he did something wrong. Stiles settles for looking over one of Peter’s shoulders. He’s perfectly framed by the window. The Preserve is beautiful in the morning. Warblers chase each other in the branches. What would he do if he could fly?</p><p>A hot hand touches Stiles’ cold cheek. He’s turned to face Peter fully. The fear doesn’t leave him. </p><p>“Stiles,” Peter says. His thumb brushes his cheek. “You woke up with quite the shiner. What happened last night? Sweetheart, you could have died if I hadn’t found you.”</p><p>Stiles blinks. How do they not know? Everyone knows. His dad is going to be so embarrassed. </p><p>“I fall a lot.” Stiles looks down again.</p><p>The Mayor clears her throat, “Stiles, there aren’t any whiskey bottles in the woods.”</p><p>“There’s no class rings in the woods either,” Peter says. He keeps rubbing Stiles cheek.</p><p>“No, there’s not.” Stiles says. He doesn’t have the energy to keep it up anymore.</p><p>Stiles cries at the Mayor’s kitchen table. </p><p>They hear everything. His mom dying, his dad’s drinking. The Mayor “Please, Stiles call me Talia” is livid to learn about the Sheriff’s inebriation on shift, but she’s enraged about all of his “falls” more. Andrew comes in again at some point, and makes tea. The kitchen smells like lemons. Stiles hopes it’s a sign of good things to come. Andrew puts a lot of honey in Stiles’ cup. It’s not what he’s used; they can’t afford honey. His hands shake as he takes a sip. The tears don’t stop, but it starts feeling a little like relief now. </p><p>Peter keeps his phone recording on the table the whole time.</p><p>-</p><p>After everything, Peter tries feeding him more. The thought makes him nauseous. Peter seems to get it, and doesn’t push much. He does bundle Stiles up in more blankets than he’s ever seen on a giant couch in front of a wall of windows. Peter puts a bowl of grapes on the floor next to the couch. “Just in case,” Peter says, pushing hair off Stiles’ forehead.  The TV has some movie on about a kid calling out sick from school. It makes him nervous to think about. </p><p>Stiles watches the warblers instead. The kitchen and living room area are higher up in the air than a first floor should be. He doesn’t really know how it works, but the windows give him a view of the first branches of some of the younger sequoias that grow closer to the house. A nest sits on one of the branches. Two adult birds constantly flit in and out. It’s beautiful to watch. </p><p>People constantly move and whisper out of the kitchen. Stiles knows they’re being quiet for him, but he wants to tell them it’s okay. He’s having trouble focusing, and can’t get his mouth to work though. Stiles lays empty, his insides exposed to air.</p><p>The warblers don’t care about any of it. The little yellow birds keep moving. Stiles pretends their songs are for him. </p><p>Some time later, Andrew crouches at his head. “Stiles, I need to take some pictures okay?” Stiles tries to understand why he’s asking, but nods anyway. The man takes a lot of pictures of his eye, even puts a quarter on it at some point. Objectively, he knows that it’s so they can get the scale right. The doctor asks if they can take pictures of his side, the stitches, too. </p><p>Stiles gets most of the blankets off himself, but eventually Andrew helps after Stiles nods. The stitches are quicker. Andrew stops trying to get the blankets up around him again when Stiles starts turning around. They’re not done yet. </p><p>He finally gets the back of his shirt up enough where Andrew can start to see. Stiles nods when he feels the brush of his fingers at the edge of his shirt. He can’t pull it up himself. Andrew takes in a sharp breath. Stiles knows he’s not pretty, but it hides fine most of the time - just have to be careful changing for gym. </p><p>“Stiles,” Andrew says once he’s taken a lot of pictures, “is it okay for Talia and Peter to see?” Stiles looks at the birds outside. They’re both in the nest now. Andrew remains patient, and Stiles finally shrugs. If his insides are on his outsides, what does that mean for his already outsides?<br/>
Andrew leaves the room and he hears more whispering. The two warblers look happy together until one flies away. It doesn’t reappear by the time he hears a growling, “Talia, I’m going to kill him.” </p><p>When Stiles turns, Peter’s eyes glow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really appreciate you alls reviews! Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter’s eyes are pretty. They glow blue, not the same blue as his not-glowing blue eyes. Stiles gets up from the couch, and looks at the man who found him last night. He can touch Peter’s face, look at his blue, glowing blue eyes without fear. His cheeks are as warm as his hands.</p><p>It’s all a dream.</p><p>Tears roll down his cheeks as he keeps looking at the unnaturally glowing blue eyes. It makes sense now. His dad’s right. He’s useless, doesn’t need saving. He’s not in the Mayor’s house of all places. Didn’t eat breakfast at her table or tell someone every bit of shame he’s experienced. Maybe he did fall off the cliff last night?</p><p>Is this heaven? Or hell?</p><p>Peter’s eyes fade to their normal striking blue. “What’s wrong, sweetheart,” Peter-not Peter asks. Stiles can’t understand how to answer that. He should know! </p><p>“You’re not real.” Stiles whispers. Even if it is a dream, old habits. Stiles drops his hand, drops his eyes, drops his heart. “You’re not real. I’m dreaming, I’m dead. Which is it?” Small drops of water sit on the floor like bacon grease. He doesn’t try to clean it up. If it’s a dream it doesn’t matter, and if he’s dead? </p><p>Peter-not-Peter, imaginary Peter, wraps his arms around him, pulls Stiles’ shirt back down where it stayed up at his shoulders. Imaginary-Peter’s hands remain on his back, draws him close, and gently pressures the back of his head until it’s resting on Peter-not-Peter’s shoulder. Stiles’s skin soaks up his body heat like a dry sponge soaks up whiskey after his dad goes on a bender.</p><p>If Stiles died last night, this is heaven.</p><p>“Everything is real. You’re okay. You’re here with us.” Imaginary-Peter says, but Stiles shakes his head, even if it stays on his shoulder. He’s tired.</p><p>“No, no. You’re not real.” Stiles says. Imaginary-Peter’s shirt starts feeling damp under his cheek, but the hug is so warm that he doesn’t want to pull away. Peter does it for him.</p><p>“Stiles,” Peter-not-Peter holds both of his cheeks in his hands, “I promise everything is real. We’re going to let you rest though, okay. You’re being so good, sweetheart.” There’s a pinch in Stiles’ arm. Not-Peter doesn’t let him turn to look at what happened. The room starts to get fuzzy.</p><p>“I don’t, I don’t feel right.” Stiles closes his eyes. Peter catches him, but Stiles already slips into sleep. </p><p>-</p><p>Stiles wakes in the same room as before. It’s dark out. The whiteness of the room and bed feel less pressing in the dark. He feels a little more present. The room means that not all of it’s a dream, but if he is in heaven, then why does he ache so badly?</p><p>Peter walks through the door as Stiles ponders the question. He roles his head over to look at the man as he walks towards the bed, seemingly unconcerned that it’s quite dark. Peter turns on a table lamp before sitting on the bed. He doesn’t fumble around with the switch as Stiles would.</p><p>“How do you feel sweetheart?” he asks, placing a hand on Stiles’ knee over the comforter. He feels like he won’t float away anymore. </p><p>“Okay” Stiles says quietly. Peter continues to look at him like he doesn’t believe him. That’s probably smart. </p><p>“I want to show you something,” Peter says, “can I have your hand?” </p><p>They seem big on consent. The doctor yesterday asked him before touching him too. It’s different. Strange. His dad took and took and took. Once, Stiles remembered yelling “Stop!” He didn’t yell again.</p><p>Peter still waits, and looks at him like he’d wait forever. Stiles wipes his palm on his pants, he hopes it’s subtle, before putting it in Peter’s. </p><p>The man smiles and pushes up his sleeve with his other hand. He threads their fingers together. “Now, I want you to watch my arm really closely, alright?” Stiles nods, but he’s not really sure where this is going. </p><p>Black lines start to crawl up Peter’s fingers through his forearm and under his shirt. Stiles’ side slowly stops aching. His brows draw together, and he licks his lip. That’s not possible. He can’t look away from the black veins moving up Peter’s arm. Eventually, the blackness stops all together, and Stiles actually feels okay. His face and side don’t hurt at all.</p><p>“Stiles,” Peter squeezes his hand. He looks up at the man. </p><p>“You’re not going mad or dreaming or anything else. The Hales have always been a little bit more. That’s all.” Stiles doesn’t let go of Peter’s hand. He trusts the man enough to allow it if Stiles wants to pull away. He pulls Peter’s hand so it’s closer to his eyes, inspects it. It looks normal, a tan forearm, and long fingers. </p><p>Stiles looks up. He has no more excuses not to. Peter smiles at him, “Now you’re okay.” He doesn’t pull away his hand. “Ready to go downstairs? Smells like chili tonight.” Stiles nods and starts getting out from under the covers. </p><p>He grips Peter’s hand all the way down the stairs. Peter smiles between their joined hands, and Stiles’ scrunched eyebrows focused on the rail and each wood step. He gets down the stairs faster this time.</p><p>The table’s still there, exactly where it was this morning, framed against all the windows. This time it’s full though. Cora, her parents, two little kids, and maybe the Mayor’s parents? All he knows is that it’s a lot of people, and it makes him uncomfortable. He pauses in the doorway and looks at the group.</p><p>“Stiles, Peter come join us,” the Mayor, Talia says. Peter squeezes his hand. The man’s a step ahead of him and tugs gently on his arm. Stiles stumbles a little, but Peter keeps him upright easily. </p><p>Stiles sits at the table with Peter across from him, and Talia’s mom right next to him. She pats his shoulder, “Welcome dear. Call me Nan. You tell me if my boy isn’t treating you okay. You hear me?”</p><p>Stiles nods quickly and ducks his head. </p><p>“Mom! I would never,” Peter theatrically gasps, hand over his heart. The younger kids giggle around their spoons. Stiles glances up, but directs his attention back to his bowl. It’s a lot of people. After Scott left, he didn’t want to bother others in the cafeteria. He usually went to the library during lunch. He could study and get homework done. Couldn’t let his grades drop. Dad didn’t like that. </p><p>It’s a lot of food. Even the kids get seconds. Peter polishes off his third bowl when Stiles finally calls it quits halfway through his first. Nan scowls, but doesn’t call him on it much. “We’re going to fatten you up. Just you wait.” He doesn’t look her in the eye.</p><p>“Stiles, why don’t you join me in my office for a little bit.” Talia says when it’s clear he can’t eat anymore.  Cora grabs his bowl before he can figure out what to do. He gives a quiet thanks before shuffling down the hall behind the Mayor. Peter and Andrew follow behind. </p><p>It’s about his dad then.</p><p>Stiles’ shoulders creep up and he hunches more. They must be sending him back. Dad’s the Sheriff, so what else could happen?</p><p>Talia gestures to one of the couches in the room. She and Andrew settle in the two arm chairs across. Peter sits with him. Stiles rests his elbows on his knees, holds his head, and waits. Peter rubs a hand on his shoulder. He just wants them to get it over with.</p><p>Peter starts, “Your father was arrested a few hours ago.” That has Stiles looking at the man. “My office will draw complete charges Monday morning, but when the social worker tried to interview him this afternoon, she found him drinking in his office at the station. He wore his service weapon, so it’s likely we’ll seek additional charges for that as well.”<br/>
“Stiles, we need to talk about you.” Talia says. He’s having trouble focusing again. His dad can’t touch him. He rests his head on his arms. He’s not going home. There’s still glass on the floor. </p><p>“Who’s going to clean it up?” he doesn’t mean to say it out loud. </p><p>“Clean what up Stiles?” Andrew asks.</p><p>“The glass. I didn’t clean it up. Just left it.” He whispers guiltily. He thought he would be back in time or never be back at all. Not because of the Hales though. A third option hasn’t been on the table before. </p><p>“Of course,” Peter murmurs next to him. His hand stays resting on his shoulders, but Stiles turns to see him dig his phone out of his pocket. </p><p>“That’s good,” he finishes looking back at Stiles. “It’s a crime scene.” It’s a crime scene. Because his dad committed a crime. </p><p>“He’s going to prison?” Stiles just needs to make sure. He can’t get his hopes up. Not again.</p><p>“For a very, very long time.” Peter says it like it’s definite. </p><p>“Really? You’re sure?” Because people have been sure before, he doesn’t say.</p><p>“I’m the District Attorney.” Peter smiles at him, “and I promise the Sheriff won’t be around for years, likely more than a decade.”</p><p>“We have emergency custody of you for the next few days Stiles,” Talia breaks in when Stiles can’t stop looking at Peter. His brain is stuck in a loop of the sheriff won’t be around for years. The Sheriff won’t be around for years.</p><p>“Stiles” Peter rubs his neck. He stopped paying attention again. “We are happy to keep you permanently. We can push for it, but we need to know if that’s what you want.”</p><p>Stiles nods for a long time.</p><p>“It’s real?” Stiles asks Peter one more time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Your reviews feed the machine. They make me so happppppppppppy!</p><p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles likes to learn. It is and always has been an escape, but for the first time he begins learning about himself. In the past week he’s learned that he loves fruit. Apples are his favorite. Peter takes to placing bowls of fruit throughout the house. It’s more likely for Stiles to munch on something in the moment than at set meals, they all learn together. </p><p>Stiles learns that he hates the smell of whiskey. They realize that when Derek stumbles home from college one night smelling like a cheap bar causing Stiles to have a panic attack in the kitchen. His water glass shattering on the floor doesn’t help matters. Talia wishes that they could have met under more polite circumstances for the first time, and gives Derek an earful in her office. </p><p>That’s something else the family learns. Stiles can’t handle raised voices. It takes Andrew a minute to realize it while asking Cora “What the hell were you thinking?” in <em>that</em> voice after a particularly intense meeting with the principal at the school. Stiles scurries up the stairs, and it takes Peter two hours to talk him out of the closet. </p><p>Stiles also learns that therapy is hard, but maybe it’s good anyway. He whispers, she talks, and together they begin to learn how to unlearn his behaviors. Janice, “we’re just two people having a conversation, quit the formalities,” doesn’t call it behaviors. She calls it conditioning, and the work is in rewiring his brain to think right. Stiles wants to ask how to know if his brain is wired wrong, but he doesn’t think she’d appreciate the question. She’s the one who challenges him to learn himself. He agrees because it sounds like a good thing to know about.</p><p>Stiles learns the most from Nan and Pop. They’ve been married for going on 50 years, and tell stories about dancing on both sides of the demilitarization zone, backpacking through the Grand Canyon, traveling across Europe, and building a family together. More than anything, it makes Stiles dream of happy things and places undiscovered, of a person out there waiting just for him.</p><p>Most of all, Stiles learns that he loves the Hales. Each fit like a puzzle with one another. Talia’s strength bends to Andrew’s consideration. Laura and Cora’s mischievousness temper Derek’s deliberate coolness. The twin terrors pull out harmless pranks when the house gets too quiet, and Stiles gets lost in his head. Nan and Pop just fit together like there could be no world where one exists without the other. Somehow, they manage to make room for him.</p><p>Then there’s Peter. </p><p>Peter is smart, funny, and beautiful. He knows what Stiles needs, even when Stiles would never think to ask for it. Hugs freely given warm his chest, and put small smiles on his face. A hand on the shoulder helps guide him towards his first therapy session, even as he’s scared out of his mind. Peter gets under Laura’s skin when Stiles doesn’t feel brave enough for petty revenge after she accidentally sneaks up on him in the living room. </p><p>Most of all, Peter gives Stiles his time with walks through the Preserve, pointing out birds and other wild things or with hot chocolate after another nightmare. Stiles looks at Peter, and for the first time since his Mom died, he feels excited about his future. </p><p>-</p><p>Stiles doesn’t return to the house, his Dad’s house. Janice and Talia team up, and decide that it’s just not a good idea. Peter helps by maintaining that the house is still a crime scene. They get no argument from Stiles. </p><p>It’s the weekend after his first full week at the Hale’s house when Stiles asks if he can go back to school. Cora brings his work home, and he has a feeling that all of his teachers are aware of “the situation.” Even Harris seems like less of an ass than usual. </p><p>Talia and Peter pause in their bickering over the remote, and give him their undivided attention. “Do you feel like you’re ready for that?” Talia asks. Stiles thinks about it. He doesn’t know for sure, but waiting longer feels like it might make the prospect of going back scarier. Janice tells him that he needs fresh air, and to get back into the rhythm of what he used to enjoy. School, no matter what his classmates think, has always been an escape in spite of all the people. </p><p>“I think,” Stiles whispers looking at Talia, he’s working on eye contact though it’s very much a work in progress, “If I don’t go, I’ll make it a bigger deal than it is to go back. It’s pressure” he trails off. Stiles does get out the thought though, and feels proud of himself. It’s something he can tell Janice. Peter smiles at him like he’s proud of Stiles too.</p><p>Opinions are hard. They’re not facts, and he actually has to think about what he wants in order to tell them. Janice says that she wants to begin every session with him telling her one thing he learned about himself, an opinion about what he likes or wants. It’s hard to come up with a new thing every day.</p><p>Peter cuts in before Stiles can start to fidget, “Why don’t we go out tomorrow and pick out some new clothes? That way you have something of your own to start fresh Monday?” Stiles hadn’t thought about that. He’s used to wearing Peter’s clothes around the house since that first night.  </p><p>All of his stuff still sits in his old house. Stiles likes wearing Peter’s clothes. They are a little bit big, and very warm. He still has problems with the cold. Andrew blames it on him being underweight, and bothers him about eating all of the time, something that Nan picks up as well. </p><p>“What about my books?” Stiles asks. Cora lets him borrow hers to do his homework, but that won’t work if they’re in different classes. </p><p>“I’m sure we can get the school to loan you new copies. Don’t worry about it dear.” Talia says. </p><p>“We’ll add school supplies to our list for tomorrow. We’ll keep it classy.” Peter winks. Stiles’ lips turn up slightly. It makes Peter grin, and Talia soften. </p><p>“Thanks,” Stiles says quietly before scurrying away, embarrassed. He is a work in progress. </p><p>-</p><p>Shopping with Peter is an experience. Stiles figured they’d go to Target, grab some shirts and jeans, then be on their way in 30 minutes tops. </p><p>Instead, Stiles tries on his fourth shirt in their third store, and feels absolutely overwhelmed. He’s afraid to tell Peter though. The man seems to be having fun finding things for Stiles, and yeah they look and feel nice, but Peter won’t let him look at prices. The Hales already let him sleep under their roof, but this is starting to feel a bit much. </p><p>Stiles sits on the small bench in the dressing room, and holds the new shirt in his hands, staring at it like a shirt can hold all the answers. He’s tired. Maybe going back Monday isn’t a good idea. Maybe he could do homeschool or -</p><p>“Sweetheart?” Peter knocks on the door, “Are you okay?” Stiles shrugs his shoulders and gives a noncommittal hum.</p><p>“Can I come in?” he asks. Stiles turns the knob so the door cracks a bit. Peter takes it as the yes that it is and slips in, closing the door behind him.</p><p>“Oh Sweetheart,” Stiles hears and then Peter crouches in front of him, and wraps him in a hug that he can feel in his bones. He thought he could be normal. Maybe he’s in over his head. Stiles curls his head into Peter’s neck and just breathes for a moment. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Stiles whispers. “Thought it’s just shopping, but you’re spending so much money, and-and I kind of, I like wearing your shirts. They’re warm and they smell like- I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Hey, you’re okay, it’s okay,” Peter shushes him, “Why don’t we get out of here? Get some air, okay?” Stiles tightens his grip around Peter’s shoulders before letting go. Stiles leans his forehead against Peter’s chest and takes a deep breath.</p><p>“Okay.” He says. Stiles goes to pick up the extra shirts, but Peter says to leave them.They’re done for the day. </p><p>When they leave the store and make their way back, Stiles expects the Tesla to make its way towards the Hale House. Peter turns onto a fire road into the Preserve instead. Stiles looks at Peter. There’s a small smile on his face, and he keeps his eyes on the road. His hand rests on the center console. </p><p>Stiles looks at him as he takes a deep breath. He covers Peter’s hand with his own.</p><p>Peter’s smile gets a little wider.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles focuses on Peter to the point where it takes him a moment to realize they’ve stopped. Peter turns and smiles at him, giving his hand a squeeze before leaving the car. It makes Stiles come back to himself. He feels his cheeks warm as he closes the passenger door to follow.</p><p>Stiles looks at his surroundings for the first time. It’s breathtaking.</p><p>A large lake laps at the edges of the Preserve. Massive flat stones emerge from the water, breaking up the sky’s reflection.  That’s where Peter heads now. He carefully leaps from rock to rock until he gets to the one he wants, and turns to watch Stiles follow. </p><p>Stiles isn’t graceful like Peter. He’s all long arms and skinny legs, but he still makes it to where Peter sits pretty easily. Stiles can imagine how amazing this place must be in the summer with the hot sun bearing down on refreshing water. He hopes he is around for that. </p><p>As the sun sets, it’s easy to forget that his Dad’s awaiting trial, that he lives with a family he just met, that bad things happened. That he’s recovering. The sky is all blushing pinks turned to soft lavenders and burnished orange. Stiles wants to live in this sunset forever. </p><p>Peter bumps their shoulders, and then wraps an arm around him. Stiles rests his head and leans more into the other man. The water breaks as a fish jumps somewhere. </p><p>“I’ve always loved this place. I think the place where I found you may have been your spot, but this place is mine.” Peter whispers into Stiles' ear. Stiles shivers a little, and Peter drapes his jacket around his shoulders. It’s warm from Peter’s body heat, and Stiles tugs it closer. </p><p>“Talia and I,” Peter starts, “We didn’t know that you could feel it.”</p><p>Stiles scrunches up his face in confusion, “Feel what?”</p><p>“You haven’t been with us that long, but you don’t let others get close to you without a split second of hesitation first. That’s not the case with me, is it Stiles?” the man asks, turning to look at him.</p><p>“No. You’re…you.” Stiles tells him as if it explains everything. Peter looks at him as if it does. </p><p>Peter hums in agreement. “Do you remember when I told you that we’re just a little bit extra? I wasn’t fully forthcoming with you.” The man collects his thoughts for a moment. Stiles continues looking out on the lake. The sun just brushes the trees, and the sky becomes a rich saturation of deep purple. </p><p>“Our family has protected Beacon Hills longer than the town has had the name. We are capable of a little bit more than taking your pain away sweetheart. More than that, each person in our family has someone who helps us along the way. They become our partner in all things. It's someone we can count on to hold our hearts, just like we hold theirs.” Peter trails off.</p><p>“Am I that to you?” Stiles holds his breath. The sun hides almost completely behind the deep woods. The lake falls silent, like everything pauses to wait with Stiles.</p><p>Peter takes a deep breath, “Yes, sweetheart. That is what you are to me. That’s what I am to you.” Stiles leans harder into him, and feels like his lungs can function, taking in all of the sights and sounds that this place can give him again. </p><p>Peter turns to him completely, taking both of his hands. “Stiles, I wanted to wait to tell you. You deserve time to heal after everything that happened. I want you to learn yourself before you have to deal with a 28 year old.”</p><p>“I don’t ‘deal’ with you.” Stiles whispers, “You saved me. You save me all the time. Don’t leave.” He grips Peter’s hands tighter. The thought terrifies him. </p><p>“Sweetheart, no one’s leaving!” Peter smiles. Stiles rests his head on their joined hands and sighs in relief. </p><p>“Darling, it’s okay,” Peter says softly. “No one is going anywhere. But Stiles, I want you to look at me,” Peter releases Stiles’ hands to cup his chin. “You have gone through something that you never should have. I need you to heal, recover. Be happy with yourself. I need you to discover yourself before anything else.” </p><p>Peter rubs his cheek with his thumb, “I want to know who you are–not who you think I want you to be or who your dad made you.”</p><p>Stiles doesn’t have words to give. He watches the last of the sun disappear below the treeline, and holds Peter’s hand to his cold face. The warmth feels like hope. </p><p>Peter helps Stiles back across the rocks. Before they get in the car, Stiles asks, “Is that the only bit extra? Partners?”</p><p>Peter turns and smiles, “Do you promise not freak out?”</p><p>Stiles shrugs, not used to promising things he can’t guarantee. </p><p>“Werewolves.” With that, Peter takes off his shirt and begins stripping his trousers. Stiles turns away blushing. There’s no way. He briefly hears a popping, grinding sound behind him, and then a giant furred head drags its cold nose from his lower back to his stomach. Stiles looks down to see a massive gray and black wolf sitting at his feet. </p><p>“Peter?” Stiles stutters out. He lands on his butt, shocked, leaning against the car. The wolf is taller than eye level now, and Stiles has to look up just a little in the faded light. The wolf’s, Peter’s, eyes glow an electric blue. </p><p>-</p><p>Stiles promises not to tell anyone except for the Hales and Janice. Apparently, she goes way back with the Hale family. It makes him feel better knowing that there’s someone else he can talk to about it, like it’s a secret, but not a bad one. </p><p>Talia takes one look at Peter when they get back, and she rolls her eyes so hard that Stiles hopes they don’t get stuck.</p><p>He still worries about school tomorrow. He packs his bag, and puts it by the door in his room. Stiles needs to get ready for bed, but the bookbag isn’t something that’s normally there. It unnerves him. All of his fears from earlier today start leaking back into his brain. </p><p>Someone knocks on his door. He keeps it shut normally. It’s a habit. Doors closed mean nothing to see here. Stiles opens the door to find Peter on the other side. He lets him into the room, but leans his bag against the hallway wall before closing the door again.</p><p>Turning, he jumps a bit to realize that Peter stays so closely behind him. Peter steadys him with hands on either shoulder, and brings him in for a hug. “Tomorrow is going to go just fine, you know.” The man finally says. Peter doesn’t release Stiles, and begins rubbing up and down his spine. “I got you one more thing, and I want you to use it whenever you need to,” he pulls away with one arm, and holds a phone out to Stiles, “everyone’s phone number is already in it, including Janice’s. You can call or text anyone tomorrow, they will respond. If you need to leave, someone can be at the school in 15 minutes.” </p><p>Stiles delicately grips the new phone like it might bite him, “are you sure it’s okay?”</p><p>“Of course it is,” Peter responds immediately, “we want to make sure you feel comfortable. Think of it as an escape hatch. If anything happens that you don’t like, we will be there for you Stiles. It’s a promise.”</p><p>“Oh,” Stiles says quietly, “I’ve never had a phone before.” They spend the next hour laying in bed with Peter explaining all the bells and whistles. Stiles sends his first text to Peter’s phone, and his eyes go round. </p><p>“But won’t you get annoyed by me?” the teen asks.</p><p>“I don’t think there’s a world where that could be possible.” Peter smiles at Stiles’ blush. Peter takes it as a win that Stiles lips move up in a ghost of a smile.</p><p>Progress.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Talia drops Cora and him off the next day, walking with him to the office to make sure everything works out with his books and getting some paperwork done. He shuffles out as she wades through a stack of forms. Before he can leave, she reminds him of his escape hatch. </p><p>The halls are quiet as he walks to 1st period. All the doors are closed. Class has already started. He hunches his shoulders as he opens the door to his English class. Everyone turns their heads to look at him, and Stiles skulks to his seat in the back. At least no one can stare where he’s sitting. The teacher pauses for half a breath before resuming her lecture on Huckleberry Finn. Stiles sighs and grabs his notebook. He can do this. </p><p>-</p><p>He can’t do this. People whisper behind him when he passes down the hallway, wondering why he was out. Why the Sheriff hasn’t been seen in the last week.</p><p>“Did Stiles murder his own father?” They say to each other. No one cares that he can hear them.</p><p>He hides in the bathroom during lunch, grasping his phone in a stall where no one can find him. Stiles leans his head in his hands. No one knows what happened to the Sheriff yet. A few of the deputies’ kids go to the high school, and it doesn’t help the rumors.</p><p>The phone buzzes hard in his hands. Stiles’ hands shake as he goes to accept the call. </p><p>“Sweetheart?” It’s Peter. </p><p>“Sweetheart, I need you to breathe for me okay?” Peter sounds calm, but he’s not here. He’s not here where people think he killed his dad, and took a week to hide the body. Peter doesn’t hear the whispers or see the glares on people’s faces. </p><p>“You’re okay Sweetheart. Pop is on his way, okay? He's closer than I am.” Peter starts counting. Stiles tries to follow, but it takes a while. Peter encourages him along the way. </p><p>“Okay Sweetheart. Pop’s almost there. Where are you?” Peter asks patiently. </p><p>“Bath,” Stiles pants, “Bath-room.”</p><p>“That’s good sweetheart. Just a few more minutes okay? Do you know which bathroom you’re in?” Peter’s still so calm. Stiles doesn’t know how. He feels like he’ll vibrate out oh his skin, and his head stays in his arms. He can’t move, but feels like he’ll fly apart at the seams at the same time. </p><p>“Stiles?” Peter asks, “are you still there Sweetheart?”</p><p>“Yeah-yes, ‘m near the library.” Stiles mumbles. </p><p>“Okay Sweetheart, Pop’s in the school. He’s almost there. I’m going to stay on the line with you okay?” Peter pauses, “Stiles, talk to me.” Peter says it more seriously. </p><p>“Yeah,” Stiles whispers. Just then the door creaks open. “Someone’s here” Stiles whispers. </p><p>Peter breathes a sigh of relief, “That’s Po-”</p><p>“Did you see the freak!” Laughs a teenager’s voice. Stiles clenches the phone tighter. His whole body locks down at the voice. </p><p>“Do you think he killed the Sheriff?” Another asked, “I bet he-”</p><p>Stiles hears Peter growl over the phone as the door opens a second time. </p><p>“Get out,” the elder Hale growls at the two teenagers. They scramble to rush out the door, but get stopped by the principal once outside. Pop has bigger problems than a few bullies.</p><p>“Stiles?” he knocks on the stall, “Stiles, kid. Talk to me. We’re going to get you home, okay?” Pop shakes the door hard, and then gives it a rough jerk. The lock breaks. </p><p>Stiles knows it’s Pop, but the sound takes him back to his room. Dad pounds on the door. The laundry’s not done. He just got the shirts in the dryer. Dad’s back too soon. The shirts are still wet, but maybe if he’s quiet, he thought it would be okay. It’s not okay. Dad’s mad.</p><p>“Stiles, look at me son. You’re okay. We got you.” That’s what Stiles hears. Not his dad. Peter’s tinny voice breaks through too, but he’s not here. Pop’s kneeling on the gross floor of the toilet so he can look at him. Not his Dad.</p><p>It’s not his Dad.</p><p>Pop grabs him in a hug when he can look up. It lifts him off the toilet, and onto his feet. Pop holds him for awhile, until it feels like his feet can take his weight. He keeps an arm around Stiles as they shuffle from the bathroom. The teens are gone, but the principal takes one look, and tells Pop they have about 10 minutes before the next bell.</p><p>The principal walks ahead to make sure the hall is clear. </p><p>Pop keeps an arm around him as they make their way from the school. Stiles keeps Peter’s voice to his ear the entire drive home into the house, past the giant kitchen table, and onto the couch in front of the big windows. </p><p>Stiles stays quiet as Nan brings lemon tea for him. It sits on the table until soft steps plod across the hardwoods, and Stiles hears two Peters in the room. He looks at Stiles as he hangs up the phone.</p><p>Stiles is in a hug before he even recognizes he’s off the couch.</p><p>-</p><p>Peter tucks Stiles into bed, and reads a book next to him until the kid falls into a deeper sleep. It’s well past four before he finally settles. Good. Talia will be home soon. Every instinct tells him to defend his mate, but killing a few teenagers probably wouldn’t help the situation.</p><p>He never expected to find Stiles. An age gap is rare, and not knowing them growing up is even rarer. For Peter to be called to his mate in such dire straits brought every instinct he has to the forefront. His no nonsense style at work has ramped to almost overly aggressive in defense of the county, their territory. It doesn’t help that with Stiles now living with his family, he can no longer try the case against the Sheriff himself. </p><p>Peter had to call in a favor from a friend further south. Deucalion could be vicious when he wanted to be, and Peter saw the venerated “Demon Wolf” come out when Deuc dragged the full story from him. He could trust the other wolf to get justice for his mate. </p><p>Once Deuc saw the evidence from the house, Stiles’ recording, and the pictures, he came up with quite a few charges from battery of a minor up to attempted murder. The Sheriff, if fully convicted, would face more than 20 years behind bars. Peter knows that neither child abusers or former law enforcement do well in prisons. Couldn’t happen to a better person.</p><p>Stiles shifts and lightly sighs.</p><p>Peter runs his fingers through Stiles’ hair. He doesn’t know what to do about the school. He has a feeling that Stiles will be terrified of going back once he starts feeling better. If what he heard through the phone is any indication, Peter worried about what would happen once the story hit the paper. </p><p>He received the typical email for any major charges that his office makes this morning, followed by a telephone call at noon. That last part was unusual considering his office would never comment on an active case. He has a feeling the press learned he recused himself.</p><p> While he could absolutely keep Stiles’ name out of the paper as a minor, it’s not a mental leap to consider child abuse charges and the Sheriff’s child in the same sentence. He hopes that they have another week, but thinks it’s more likely that an article hits tomorrow.</p><p>They just need to weather the approaching storm.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s well past dinner by the time Stiles slowly descends the stairs with Peter. </p><p>He sets Stiles up at the table while he heats up leftovers for the both of them. The rest of the Hales are in the den watching a movie, but when Stiles settles, Cora gets up to keep them company. Stiles’ shoulders tighten as she sits across from him.</p><p>Peter puts a plate in front of Stiles and narrows his eyes at Cora. She’s always been a bit of a wild card. Stiles keeps his eyes down, and pushes food around his plate. </p><p>“You need to eat something,” Peter gently chides, bumping shoulders with him as Peter sits down with his own plate. Stiles hums in response and tares up small pieces of a roll before eating it slowly.</p><p>It’s better than nothing. The pattern continues for a while before Cora huffs out a sigh. The sound makes Stiles pause, and glance up before looking back at his plate. It doesn’t take much to make the teenager stop what he’s doing. Peter thought Cora recognized this by now. </p><p>“Cora, can I help you with something?” Peter asks in a flat tone.</p><p>She huffs again looking at Stiles, “Why didn’t you stand up for yourself? All you had to do was tell one person to shove it, and they would have stopped!”</p><p>Peter cannot hold back a sub-vocal growl anymore. Talia appears in the kitchen doorway, “Cora,” she speaks furiously, “what are you thinking.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Stiles whispers. The scene pauses, and he looks up at Cora across from him. Stiles says quietly, “Everyone thinks I killed my- Him. Nothing I do or say will change their minds. I’m not, I won’t be him.” With that, Stiles leaves the quiet kitchen, and heads up the stairs. </p><p>He falls apart under the covers. Shortly after Peter lays with him, pulling him into a hug over the covers. Peter listens to Talia lecture Cora as Stiles falls asleep.</p><p>-</p><p>Stiles doesn’t go to school the next day. The adults decide to let him sleep in after his day yesterday. They double down once the paper gets delivered. </p><p>It’s not great. </p><p>A photo of the kitchen, broken glass, blood and all, dominates the front page. The angle makes Peter think that the photographer shot through a window. It’s uncomfortably crisp. Peter remembers the piece of glass Andrew pulled from Stiles' side that night and grimaces. It’s now in evidence.</p><p>The charges outlined against the Sheriff are addressed in gory detail with commentary from a few deputies who chose to remain anonymous. One in particular talks about his surprise at the Sheriff’s behavior when the deputy first joined the department, and how a few were working on gathering evidence to present to IA, but no one expected something like this. </p><p>It speculates on Peter’s recusal, and speaks to Deucalion’s strong conviction record. While Stiles isn’t named explicitly, it’s clear the connection they make. The paper even shows photos from yesterday with Talia walking in the school doors with Stiles and Cora, the teens’ faces thankfully turned away from the camera. It concludes with “The Sheriff’s son was seen for the first time since charges were brought yesterday entering Beacon Hills High School along with Mayor Hale and her daughter.” At least they don’t capture his early departure. Small mercies. Stiles was going to shrink with the added attention. </p><p>“We should get rid of that before he sees it,” Peter grumbles over his coffee. </p><p>“I’ll take it into the office with me,” Andrew grabs the offending paper from the table, ready to head out. Peter tips his cup in salute as the other man manages to leave the house. </p><p>Good timing as always.</p><p>Peter hears Stiles start to shuffle around upstairs before heading for the shower. Talia pauses, listens for a moment, and then smoothes a hand across Peter’s shoulders. “It’ll be okay Peter. We’ll get him through this. It’s a matter of time and patience.” She says. </p><p>He hums as he continues to sip his coffee, “Yes, but that doesn’t stop the worry in the meantime.”</p><p>“No, I don’t imagine it does,” Talia says, grasping his shoulder one last time. He nods to her, and she heads out the door following her husband.</p><p>-</p><p>Stiles finds Peter downstairs in the kitchen alone. He has a laptop in front of him, and smiles as Stiles looks into the room from the doorway. </p><p>“Hi, Sweetheart. I figured that I would work from home today. Do you want anything for breakfast?” Peter asks. Stiles shrugs as he sits at the table, and Peter pulls out a leftover bowl of oatmeal with apples like he does every morning. </p><p>He can smell Stiles’ embarrassment. It’s not exactly a mental leap to understand the cause. Stiles plays with his food, but does eat most of it. Peter decides not to bother him. </p><p>The teen cleans his bowl and tiddies up around the kitchen. Old habits die hard. Stiles scrubs a spot on the stove as Peter comes up to him. “You know you don’t need to do that,” Peter says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Stiles untenses, shrugging before going to wash his hands in the sink.<br/>
Stiles dries his hands a bit more forcefully than necessary on a kitchen towel. “What if I can’t go back to school? What if Cora’s right and I’m just not goo-” Stiles turns.</p><p>Peter cuts him off with a hug. Stiles tucks his head into Peter’s collar, and breathes. The wolf’s hand trails up and down his spine as Peter thinks about Stiles’ question. He can feel the ridges of scars as his hand moves up and down.</p><p>“I heard snippets of what happened in the bathroom yesterday,” Peter settles on. “If that kind of language was what you dealt with all day yesterday, I’m not surprised that you needed to come home. I would have wanted you to come back sooner.” </p><p>He brings Stiles into a tight hug. “You were right in what you told Cora. Any reaction you gave would have fueled more speculation. Nothing you said could have helped you. It’s not how the masses, especially teenagers, work. I’m so sorry you didn’t feel comfortable telling me, but Stiles, I am so proud of you for trying.”</p><p>“You just left a horrendous situation. It’s going to take time. That’s okay. You’re smart, and you have a whole bunch of wolves to help you get through this.” Peter says. The last part makes Stiles give a watery chuckle. He returns Peter’s hug just as tightly.</p><p>“As I have you to myself for the day, I was thinking we’d have a bit of a movie marathon in the den. How does that sound?” Stiles nods , but stays close. </p><p>-</p><p>They bump up the appointment with Janice a little earlier given all of the turmoil from the day before. Stiles thought it up on his own. Even better, Stiles calls her office and stutters through the request by himself. Things like this tell Peter that Stiles will be okay. </p><p>Peter drives them into town, and sees Stiles to her door telling the boy he’ll be back. His office is just a block away, so he figures he’ll stop in to see how everything is going.</p><p>As Peter rounds the corner to his office, he sees the reporters. There’s a few camped by his door, and they start gathering up their tools of the trade on his approach. He keeps walking towards the vultures, not wanting them to see where he’s come from. </p><p>“DA Hale!” They all seem to shout simultaneously.</p><p>“Is it true that the Sheriff shot his own son?”</p><p>“Is this a political play?”</p><p>“Why did you recuse yourself from such a large case?”</p><p>Peter ignores them all as he makes his way inside. He put the policy in place to avoid the press after all, though it is surprising to see so many outside his door. Beacon Hills is a small town. It meant more coverage would likely be on the way.</p><p>Peter grimaces. Great.</p><p>The office is pretty quiet. He takes the time to check in with his assistant, and his two ADAs. Everyone is fine, if a little harried by the annoyances out front. Truth be told, Peter isn’t really here to check on them. </p><p>He makes his way to the conference room where Deuc has set up shop. He’s got photos of evidence pinned to walls, photos of Stiles, statements are all over the place. It’s not exactly how Peter works, but Deuc’s record speaks for itself. </p><p>“Peter!” He hears as he steps through the door. “I wasn’t expecting you in today. Your assistant said that you were working from home,” the Demon Wolf turns and smiles at him. Deucalion could be downright vicious when he sunk his teeth into a case. That’s exactly what Peter’s counting on. If Peter himself could not prosecute, then Deucalion would  be able to get the job done just as well. </p><p>“You know me,” Peter says seriously, “I can’t let you have all the fun.”</p><p>Deucalion nods, “Yes, well from my perspective this is an odd little case. The victim,” Peter clears his throat, “Stiles had quite a few scars. We were able to cross reference some of them with trips to the hospital that started a few months after his mother died. It’s a very interesting pattern–if a resident treated the boy, then they made notes about potential abuse, but if an attending administered treatment, no notes were given for follow up.” </p><p>Deuc looks up at Peter, eyes red, “It is not a few times either. This stretches back 8 years with 11 different events. It’s not a pattern; I would classify this as a practice of negligence.”</p><p>They dive into the details until Peter’s alarm tells him he has 15 minutes to get back. Peter thanks the Alpha for his help. No one would be painted in a good light once the trial started. “Any thoughts on a plea?” he asks the Alpha.</p><p>“I’m not sure yet. There’s still cases of evidence to sort through, and I haven’t heard from the defense yet. My inclination is to say no.” Deuc finishes mumbling with a pink highlighter sticking out of his mouth. He’s already beginning to sort through more statements. </p><p>As Peter leaves, he has a thought, “Are those twins still chomping at the bit to get out of the house?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for all of the reviews so far! It really helps me get the creative juices flowing : )</p><p>I love your questions and comments around what's happening. Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles feels lighter after his talk with Janice. She reiterates what Peter says. She’s proud of him for trying, but maybe it is a little too early to go back. It’s okay that it didn’t go well the first time because it gives them more information to formulate a plan. </p><p>The last time he was here, he told her about how much he loved chemistry – how adding different elements together creates different reactions. She challenges him to think of his recovery in those terms. Instead of thinking about failures, she tells him to think about his life as a series of science experiments. Sometimes things go exactly as planned, and it confirms your theory. Sometimes it goes wrong, but that’s okay. The things that go wrong give you new data to play with for next time.</p><p>Janice wants him to think about what he needs to feel successful in going back to school, so they can discuss it together tomorrow. Peter and Talia are even going to sit in on that session because she wants to make a game plan together. </p><p>It makes Stiles feel good. They want his input. They want to help him succeed. It feels like he can do anything when Peter comes to pick him up. Stiles hugs him when the wolf comes through the door. The reaction causes Peter to smile. It’s the first time Stiles initiates contact. </p><p>“Good chat?” Peter asks. He already knows the answer. Stiles’ scent is the happiest it’s been since Peter met the boy on the bluff. The change is a welcome surprise.</p><p>Stiles nods against Peter’s collar bone. “Can you and Talia come tomorrow?” Stiles asks, finally looking up. “Janice wants us to work on a plan for school.” Stiles says excited, if still quiet. Peter makes a goal to get a loud laugh out of him one day.</p><p>“I don’t see why not,” Peter says, leading them out of the back of the building. It’s not unusual for him to park back there, so hopefully Stiles thinks nothing of it. Peter lets out an unintentional relieved sigh when he doesn’t see anyone waiting for them. Thankfully the drive home is uneventful. </p><p>Peter shuts off the car when they pull into the driveway, and Stiles looks over. “I chatted with a friend today. He has a set of twins who are homeschooled, but in senior year as well. I thought that it might be fun for you to meet them this weekend, see if you hit it off?’”</p><p>Stiles looks a little uncomfortable at the thought of new people, “What if they’re like the people at school?” He asks while twisting his fingers together. </p><p>Peter hums, “They won’t be. For one, I would trust Deuc, the twins’ guardian, with just about anything, and two, they’re not from Beacon Hills. They likely have no idea about what’s going on. It could be a taste of normalcy.” He looks at Stiles who still uncomfortably fidgets. “How about this. Why don’t you think about it, and if you decide no, than that’s okay, but if you want to try, that’s fine too. I don’t want to pressure you sweetheart.”</p><p>The pet name gets a small smile from Stiles. The teen nods before getting out of the car with Peter. They make their way to the house together, Peter with an arm over his shoulders. </p><p>Nan greets them inside with a smile. The house smells like a bakery to Peter as his mom guides them to the kitchen. She’s probably been fussing in the kitchen since getting back from the store. “Stiles! Come here dear. I need your help with something. Thanksgiving’s next week and I’m testing some recipes. Pop will eat just about anything I put in front of him. I need a refined pallet to help me with taste testing.” </p><p>Ah yes. Peter knew what this was. His mom hasn’t been subtle in getting Stiles to eat more. Peter smiles looking over at Stiles. He would take all the help he could get. “Shall we?” He asks, “I smell apple pie. You haven’t lived if you’ve never tried Mom’s pie. Her crust is from the gods.” He gushes dramatically. Stiles looks at Peter with that little Mona Lisa smile of his.</p><p>Nan slaps Peter’s shoulder and winks at Stiles, “He’s not wrong. I could out pie the Pillsbury dough Boy any day of the week.” The kitchen table is littered with pies, cookies, and cupcakes. Stiles and Peter sit with Nan across from them. Peter cuts them all big slices of pie, and Stiles nibbles at it. </p><p>“Thank you,” he whispers, “Thanksgiving has always been my favorite.” Stiles takes a bite of pie while he thinks. </p><p>Nan gets up, and moves over to the freezer. “You can’t have pie without ice cream,” she says, plopping a scoop on all of their pie plates. Stiles gives her a little smile, and she winks back. The ice cream begins melting onto the warm pie, dripping over the edges of the flaky crust. He moves his spoon through the goo and apple, humming as he takes another bite.</p><p>Nan sits again, “Thanksgiving is my favorite too.” She systematically removes the foil on a cupcake and it eats it in two bites. Peter follows her lead and demolishes two cookies without looking embarrassed about it. Stiles takes a large spoonful of pie and ice cream to join in on the bit of goofiness. </p><p>Stiles finishes his bite before continuing his thought, “My Mom used to get up really early and make paczki. We’d snack on them all day while the turkey cooked. I got to help her in the kitchen a lot with that kind stuff.” Stiles licks his spoon clean. He looks at Nan, “Do you think I could help here?”</p><p>Nan grins at him, “I would love that, Stiles. If you’re willing, I bet we could figure out paczki together. As you can see,” she points to Peter indulging in another cookie, “us wolves love our sweets.”</p><p>Stiles actually giggles.</p><p>-</p><p>Stiles gives a groan getting up from the table. He polished off his pie, ice cream, and half a cookie. He feels fit to burst as Peter leads him over to the den. Peter ate four times as much, but he looks fine and content.<br/>
Stiles actually flops onto the couch. Peter sits near him, and pulls out his laptop to do some work. Stiles squirms over until his head sits against Peter’s thigh. He hums and cards his fingers through Stiles hair while going through email. It lulls the teen into an afternoon nap. </p><p>-</p><p>“So Stiles,” Janice says, “let’s chat through what you want your first day back to be like.”</p><p>“I don’t think,” Stiles mumbles, “that what I want is possible. I want to go back to being invisible. Well, maybe not invisible. I don’t want to lose the Hales or have things go back to the way they were...before.” He looked up at Janice and Talia. Peter puts an arm around his shoulders in support. </p><p>“I do want to go back to school. I don’t want to be blamed for things I didn’t do though. That’s not crazy, is it?”</p><p>“No Stiles,” Talia says with a small frown, “It’s not a lot to ask for.”</p><p>“Do you want to go back to Beacon Hills High? We could probably send you somewhere else,” Peter says. That was a question Stiles asked himself. It didn’t feel right to not go back, even if it would make life a little easier right now. </p><p>Stiles glances at Peter and grabs his hand. Peter tightens his grip. Deep breath, “I think that if I don’t go back it’ll feel like he won. You’re in Beacon Hills,” He looks away from his and Peter’s hand, and over at Talia, “The Hales have always been in Beacon Hills. I want to stay with you and Peter.” He squeezes the wolf’s hand. “I want to prove to the school that they can’t push me down.”</p><p>Peter rubs a thumb over his knuckles. “We’re proud of you sweetheart.” </p><p>Talia nods with Peter’s words before continuing, “but Pack’s about what’s best for you just as much as what’s best for the Pack. If you feel like you can’t do this, you have to let us know. We’re here for you.”</p><p>“Even Cora?” Stiles asks nervously. He hasn’t talked to her since the incident in the kitchen. He’s not scared of her per se, but he doesn’t find her presence comforting either.</p><p>“Even Cora,” Talia says. “My daughter does not handle fear well. She’s rather reactive.”</p><p>“Cora was worried about you when she called me yesterday,” Peter continues rubbing Stiles’ hand, “she may not look it, but she cares about you. I know she confronted a few students yesterday once she understood what happened.”</p><p>Stiles nods. He could see that. Cora is 10 pounds of tough in a five pound sack. For it to bleed into their interactions seems obvious once Janice talks through it with them.</p><p>“It may be uncomfortable, but it sounds like you and Cora are due for a conversation,” Janice says. Stiles’ shoulders droop. It makes sense, but that doesn’t make it easy. Stiles nods anyway and leans into Peter. </p><p>“In terms of school,” She continues, “I like the idea of you starting on Monday. It gives us some time to prepare, and gives you a few days to get used to being back with a short week for Thanksgiving. It also gives us time for the article in the morning paper to die down.”</p><p>With that, she talks through what’s happened with the paper, some of the outcomes of what they could expect, and a few recovery exercises. </p><p>They leave the session, and Stiles doesn’t feel as happy as yesterday, but he made decisions. Stiles is going to get more data to move forward. As they buckle in, Stiles turns to Peter and says, “I think I want to meet the twins. Is that still okay?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for all the reviews! My guilt in not posting keeps me writing for you 🤣</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The weekend approaches quickly for Stiles. Monday is on the horizon, but before school looms he has to get through a cookout with Alpha Deucalion, the twins, and the rest of the Blackwood Pack. </p><p>That’s another thing. </p><p>Werewolf hierarchy is something he and Peter talk through on Thursday, and he clarifies with Janice on Friday. Two packs coming together? It feels like a big deal to him. </p><p>The pressure ratchet’s down, at least a little bit, when Peter explains that their packs go way back, and this gathering is something they typically do a few times a year. It’s nerve wracking as terms like alphas, betas, omegas, Emissaries, Left and Right Hands swirl in his head. </p><p>Where Talia as the Alpha acts like the President, Peter, as her Left Hand, behaves like the defender and spy for the Pack. Where Peter acts externally to protect the pack and people in Beacon Hills, Andrew makes sure that the Pack is happy and healthy while making sure that Beacon Hills know they can count on the Hales always. Everyone’s chosen careers make so much more sense now.</p><p>The Hale Pack doesn’t have an Emissary right now, so Andrew does double duty to make sure that the pack doesn’t need Peter’s set of talents – not that he’s incapable, the wolf smirkingly tells Stiles. </p><p>When Peter talks about his duties, Stiles gets nervous about being with someone who’s job is to hurt others. Peter corrects him. The Left Hand’s job doesn’t mean hurting people, it means protecting people. That’s something that Stiles doesn’t need help understanding. Everything Peter has done in the last two weeks has been to protect and help. </p><p>The last thing they talk about is brief. Deuc is trying the case against the Sheriff. </p><p>-</p><p>“Stiles dear, can you bring those plates out?” Nan calls to him Saturday. They’re setting up the yard for the Blackwood Pack. Stiles braces himself to meet eight new people, three of which are his and Cora’s age. With everything going on, they haven’t had their chat yet, but the atmosphere feels lighter still. He has a feeling that they’ve both been getting coached by Talia and Peter. </p><p>He gets the last of the plates on the table cloths outside. It’s quite the spread of sweet and savory sides with Andrew and Pop setting up a station by the grill with burgers and sausages. Wolves eat a lot. Stiles knows that the whole thing will get demolished by the time a bunch of wolves and a few humans are done with it. He grimaces thinking about what they must budget for food. </p><p>An arm drapes over his shoulders, “why the frown Sweetheart? Everything okay?” Peter asks. Stiles knows that the pack has worried about him and this event. It’s the first time since the school incident that he’ll be faced with people outside of the Hales. </p><p>“I’m okay,” he tells Peter quietly and means it, “I was just thinking about how much you all must spend on food. I could barely meet my budget before.” Peter pulls him into a hug. “I’m really okay, I promise.”</p><p>Peter hums, “I know, Sweetheart. Fun fact about wolves - we have such good hearing that we can tell a lie. I just want an excuse to hug you.” That pulls a soft chuckle from Stiles.</p><p>“Wait. You can actually tell if I lie?” Stiles looks at Peter in surprise.</p><p>“Oh dear,” Nan says as she heads over to the group of Hales, “We can hear your heart and smell what you’re feeling too!” She laughs like she didn’t just rock Stiles’ world. </p><p>“Now, I hear Deuc’s car at the driveway. Last chance to run away before getting overrun by the horde.” Peter jokes with a smirk. Stiles still tries to wrap his head around the idea of smelling feelings. It’s mind boggling. </p><p>“You’ll stay with me, right?” Stiles asks. Smells aside, he’s still nervous.</p><p>“As long as you’ll have me. There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” Peter says, leading him over to the others waiting to welcome the other pack.  </p><p>“I don’t smell bad, do I?” Stiles whispers in Peter’s ear. He showers every day, and he helped Nan with prep on a lot of stuff after. Maybe he should have waited to shower? if they can smell how he feels then maybe he smells all the time. </p><p>“You don’t stink. You smell like lightning and cotton.”Cora says matter-of-factly. Her voice makes Stiles jump. She must have come up behind him as he stood with Peter. A smile’s on her face now though. He gives a small smile back.</p><p>“Thanks,” he says. She nods, and bounces in excitement. Cora has been one of the most vocal at having the other pack visit. Once she heard the twins might come, she begged to see someone named Kira. It snowballed a bit from there. If three people came over, why not everyone? Peter and Talia checked in with Stiles. The teen was just happy that everyone around him seemed happy about the idea.</p><p>Now even he can hear the tires on the driveway gravel. It makes his shoulders tense. </p><p>“Relax Sweetheart. They’re good people.” Peter whispers into his ear. Stiles nods. A few cars pull into the driveway. There’s no turning back now. </p><p>The cars barely stop before a door opens and a young woman leaps out. Cora runs screaming “Kira!” at the top of her lungs, almost knocking Stiles over in her rush to hug the other girl. Peter keeps Stiles standing, and uses it as an excuse to hold him closer.</p><p>“Cora!” Talia laughs. “Slow down before you knock poor Stiles over.” The admonishment, even if not directed at him, makes Stiles blush. He hides his burning cheeks in Peter’s shoulder. Doors begin opening, and Stiles takes a deep breath before pulling away to face the new people beginning to collect across from Talia and Andrew.</p><p>“Talia!” A British man exclaims as he walks over, “It has been too long, and it seems as if the cubs give no wit for proper protocol, so why should we?” a man with dirty blonde hair and sharp cheekbones says.</p><p>Talia gives her daughter an unimpressed look. Cora doesn’t even notice, too wrapped up in conversation with “Kira” to give anyone else the time of day. Talia then turns, and smiles at the British man again. </p><p>“Deucalion, I couldn’t agree more,” she says smiling and pulling the other Alpha into a hug. “Come now, we’ve got plenty of food, and now we have friends to share it!” Immediately, the packs begin mingling, breaking up into groups and laughing like old friends. </p><p>Stiles knows that Peter holds back for his sake. He tugs at the fingers draped over his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” Stiles asks him. </p><p>Peter smiles. “You’re pretty wonderful. Did you know that?” For the second time, Stiles finds himself blushing. He drops his eyes and shrugs into Peter’s arm.</p><p>Peter chuckles. “Peter! What have you been up to?” booms a loud voice, breaking up their moment. Stiles jumps and makes a little sound of shock. Peter gives him a squeeze, and if Stiles can hear his own heart beat, there’s no way the wolves can miss it. </p><p>Stiles sees a very tall man with a buzz cut walking over with a gorgeous brunette. The tall man has a look of chagrin on his face, “Sorry about that kid.” He says in a more normal volume, “I didn’t mean to scare you, I promise.” The man looks incredibly uncomfortable, so Stiles tries a smile.</p><p>“It’s okay. I’d be excited to see Peter too,” he returns quietly. </p><p>Peter laughs with Ennis. The woman smiles at him.</p><p>“Sweetheart, the guy with no volume control is Ennis, and this lovely lady is his mate Kali,” Peter smiles at him, “This is Stiles, my mate.” </p><p>“Well hot damn Peter! It’s about time you found your match!” Ennis exclaims, patting Peter on the back so hard that Stiles can feel it through Peter’s other arm. </p><p>Peter grins in response “Some people are worth the wait.”  Stiles feels warmth unfold in his chest at Peter’s words. Mate. He is Peter’s mate. </p><p>Deucalion throws an arm over Kali shoulders. “What trouble are you starting?” The British man asks with a smirk firmly rooted on his face. Stiles has a feeling it’s his de facto expression. </p><p>Kali nudges him with an elbow. “Your Right Hand just scared the shit out of my counterpart’s mate. That’s what’s going on. Deuc this is Stiles. Stiles, Deuc.” She finishes neatly. Stiles is more surprised by the petite woman being her pack’s defender than anything else, especially when her mate is the size of a house. </p><p>“Stiles, it is nice to put a face to a name,” the Alpha’s smirk turns into a more genuine smile. Stiles notices that no one tries to touch him. He’s grateful as he can see everyone else in the yard mingling with hands on shoulders and big bear hugs. Stiles isn’t ready for that yet.</p><p>“It’s nice to meet you too,” Stiles looks down at the ground, “thank you for, thanks for taking the case against the Sheriff.” He briefly looks up before looking down again. Peter drags him closer. </p><p>“Of course,” returns the Alpha, “I am always happy to assist friends, but enough of that unpleasantness. It is a good day to make new acquaintances. Have you met Ethan and Aiden yet?” </p><p>As if summoned, two guys Stiles’ age appear behind the Alpha. </p><p>“Duec!” one of the twins exclaims, “check out their porch! It’s massive!” Deuc smiles at the comment, and turns to his two teens. </p><p>“Stiles, this is Ethan &amp; Aiden,” both teens wave as Deucalion calls their names. Ethan has a white sweater on while Aiden wears black. At least he can tell them apart that way. He’d be screwed otherwise. </p><p>“Hey, Deuc said you’re a science nerd. Tell me why. Chem is the WORST.” Aiden says. Ethan knocks his brother in the shoulder, “It’s not, you’re so dramatic! You’re just butt hurt that Kali won’t let you get away with shit.” Aiden scratches the back of his head, “Well maybe.” He finally says. The group laughs at their antics. </p><p>Stiles looks over at Peter, and makes a decision. “You can’t see the best part of the porch from here. There’s hammocks on the other side of the house. Want to take a look?”</p><p>As the teens move away, Peter gives Stiles one last hug. He’s really proud of Stiles for trying. </p><p>“He seems like he’s doing okay,” Ennis says once the boys are well away. Peter can still hear them on the other side of the house just in case, but he’s not worried with the twins. </p><p>“He is doing better though adamant about returning to school Monday. We’re all banking on the reporting melee to have died down. I don’t think we’ll have the same problem that we did on Monday, but he’s still not great with attention.” Peter sighs. </p><p>“I wasn’t going to mention this until we could see if the twins and Stiles got along, but they’ve gotten much better control over their shift these last few months. I’d be confident sending them back to school, and I think having them go somewhere else would be a good thing, a fresh start so to speak.” Deuc pauses as he hears the twins laugh from around the house. Stiles’ much softer chuckle underlies the sound.</p><p>“You’re suggesting sending them with Stiles?” Peter wanted to be very clear. He did not want to disappoint the teen if it fell through. </p><p>“Yes, with the case happening here, I will be in Beacon Hills for a good portion of the time anyway, and they have been itching to get their bikes out more regardless. I think it could be a good thing for them and for Stiles.” The Alpha finishes. </p><p>Peter gently tugs his bond with Talia. He wants a second opinion, and she makes her way over.</p><p>“Deuc! I’m so glad you all could come by! Cora is always so happy to see Kira. We should really figure out more ways for them to get together.” The female Alpha exclaims. Peter can feel how happy Talia is, watching her pack engage with the others. </p><p>“Yes Lia, Deuc had an interesting thought that would help with just that. What if the twins transferred to the high school with Stiles? I quite like the idea if they do get along.” Peter explains to Talia. </p><p>“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that, but maybe we allow Stiles to decide.” Peter can tell she’s excited and a little bit relieved about it. “We’d probably need to wait a day to get the boys transferred over, or do you think we could do it Monday morning?” Talia looks to the rest as she ponders. “If he agrees, maybe they can all go back together. Deuc what a lovely idea.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I may slow a little bit on updates for this guy as I start on the sequel to The Thing with Feathers. </p><p>I really do appreciate you all reading! Your comments are gold!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fluffy fluff that is fluffy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The twins and Stiles camp out on the hammocks with their food. Eventually Cora and Kira join them, laying around telling jokes, and groaning about parents and teen-sized problems. Stiles feels the tension in his shoulder blades ease. For a second, this moment transports him to past times with Scott, before his dad got really bad. </p><p>He forgot what friends feel like. </p><p>The pack eventually leaves with the promise of more get-togethers. Stiles is a bit sad to see them go. It’s a nice feeling, being normal. He hopes that school is the same, but it’s not something he has confidence believing in.</p><p>Peter finds him as they finish cleaning up. Stiles smiles remembering that Peter introduced him proudly as his mate. “Darling, it’s freezing out here! Why don’t we go inside and have some tea; maybe we can curl up and read a book. What do you think?” </p><p>“It’s okay? We’re not completely done cleaning up yet.” Stiles respondes quietly.</p><p>Talia looks up at that, getting the tables folded away “Stiles, get inside. You’ve done more than enough between helping Nan earlier and now. Let my children pull their weight! Go get warm.” Peter smiles at the teen as Stiles looks at him and shrugs. Peter didn’t wait, just wraps an arm around his shoulders to guide him inside. </p><p>Stiles rubs his hands together to get some warmth going. He didn’t really pay attention as the sun dipped below the horizon, but Peter’s attention makes him realize just how cold it is outside in the twilight. The wolf grabs his hands and frowns at just how cold he feels. </p><p>“New plan,” Peter says. “Why don’t you take a bath? Warm up. I can bring you something to drink in bed.”</p><p>Stiles hums and smiles at the man, “Peter, it’s okay. I get cold. It happens.”</p><p>“But why be uncomfortable if you don’t have to be?” Peter asks. It makes Stiles chuckle and roll his eyes, but he does head upstairs. The ridiculous wolf has a point.</p><p>-</p><p>He’s comfortably ensconced in bed with a book. More blankets magically appeared on his bed when Stiles comes back from the bathroom in pajamas. Peter knocks on the open door as he crosses the threshold. He has more than tea. There’s a tray of hot sandwiches, tea, and a veritable mountain of cookies. </p><p>Peter looks at him smiling like he just can’t help himself. He settles the tray between them, and makes himself comfortable on the other side of Stiles’ bed. </p><p>“It seems like you had a good day,” Peter finally says after divvying up sandwiches.</p><p>Stiles pushed the tray away to lean against the wolf. “You were right. They didn’t even talk about it. It was really nice. I hope school goes like that.”</p><p>“I wanted to ask you about that actually. The twins were bitten a year or so ago. Deuc’s confident in their control now. We thought that it could be interesting if they started school with you next week. What do you think?” Peter tries to look casual when he asks, but Stiles knows better by now. </p><p>The teen smiles. </p><p>-</p><p>Stiles wakes early Monday. He can’t sleep anymore, too nervous. The sun just begins to turn the sky gray, and the house is still as he makes his way into the kitchen. He may as well be useful if he can’t sleep anymore. </p><p>By the time the others wander down, the sky brightly proclaims a new day, and the table is full of homemade cinnamon buns, eggs, and hash browns. Stiles wipes down the counters as Peter wanders in. Stiles gives a nervous smile and Peter immediately pulls him into a hug. </p><p>“Sweetheart, you could have woken me. I wouldn’t mind. You don’t have to be down here by yourself.” Stiles shrugs in the hug. Peter didn’t need to deal with his anxiety. </p><p>Stiles presses his forehead into the wolf’s collar bone, “You needed the rest. I know you’re going back to the office today.”</p><p>“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” Peter smiles at the very wolf-like behavior in his very human mate. He gently shakes Stiles, “come on, let’s eat before everyone else gets here.”</p><p>It doesn’t take long for different family members to slip through the door, on their way to jobs or school. A few hours after Peter (finally) leaves, a knock rings loudly against the door. They don’t like Stiles to answer. He’s too squishy according to Peter. Stiles does put his book down, and watches as Nan opens the door. </p><p>“Stiles!” Nan calls, “Your ride’s here!” </p><p>Time for school.</p><p>-</p><p>The halls are crowded when they get in. The twins walk on either side of him like Secret Service agents. Stiles gives an internal laugh - he’s the furthest from an important figure as one can be. They garner a hell of a lot of attention as they walk through the packed halls to the office. </p><p>Deuc straightened out the twins’ records this morning, but the school needed a few hours to get schedules together. With the help of the Principal, at least one of the twins gets into each of Stiles’ classes. He has a feeling the administrator feels guilty about last week. Stiles shrugs. He could use all of the help he could get. </p><p>The whispers about him don’t last long this time. For one, the twins glares could burn water, and they use this skill to the max as people see Stiles come down the hall. The twins get their own whispers from the teens of BH High. </p><p>There are more than a few breathy “twins” that Stiles hears. Even the Ice Queen of BH seems visibly affected by the appearance of Stiles’s new friends. And isn’t that a crazy thought? Stiles has friends.</p><p>He still quietly ponders this as he and Ethan sit in 4th period Calculus. Today has already gone much better than last Monday. It helps that they did not arrive until after lunch, but still. He manages to actually pay attention to the teacher, and is surprised to realize that the take home work Cora brought him means that he’s not that far behind. </p><p>The class diligently works on some sample problems when a crumpled up note gets to his desk. The noise causes Ethan to glance over. Stiles shrugs - he didn’t see who left it. He quietly unfolds the crumpled ball in his lap, already nervous about what someone could say to him now. </p><p>
  <em> Is he single? Into dudes? </em>
</p><p>The note brings a smile to Stiles’ face. He even chuckles slightly. In typical teenage fashion, if he’s not a murder he’s yesterday’s news. Stiles couldn’t be more thrilled. Ethan looks over again, now even more curious. Stiles looks around, shrugs, and passes him the note. The teacher has completely checked out now that her lecture is over, so he gives up on trying to be secretive.</p><p>Ethan glances at the note briefly, smirks and then nods. The reaction makes Stiles chuckle. He thinks he’ll like having friends. </p><p>The rest of the day passes inconsequentially. Well, except for when he tries to put books away after last period. The twins whisper to one another at their own lockers at the end of the hall, probably about that letter, Stiles thinks smiling. He goes to put his last book in the locker when he gets slammed from behind, catching himself on the edge of the locker before he can bash his head on the interior shelf. </p><p>“Watch where you’re going Stilinski,” Whittemore says snidely. He doesn’t stop walking until Cora shoulders the lacrosse captain hard into the lockers on her way to Stiles. The loud noise makes Stiles jump slightly. </p><p>“You ready to get out of here?” She asks like nothing happened, “Uncle Peter’s pulling up in a few minutes.” Stiles nods. The twins come over, staring at Whittemore like he’s a slimy reptile or something. The bully practically scurries away. Stiles has a feeling he won’t be bothered again.  </p><p>“Thanks for today,” he quietly speaks to the twins, “See you tomorrow?” Doubt colors his voice. He’s not this lucky. Friends and a relatively normal school day?</p><p>“Of course,” Ethan says like it’s obvious. “I need your help to figure out who sent that note!” Stiles smiles, nods, and follows Cora down the hall. </p><p>He has friends.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Things to look forward to:<br/>- Stiles is interviewed by Deuc<br/>- The Trial!<br/>- Ethan and ____ sittin' in a tree K I S S I N G<br/>- Aiden meets his match<br/>- What's up with Cora and Kira</p><p>Anything else you're interested in?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles blinks and it’s Thanksgiving. Waking early becomes a habit that Peter acquires with him. It’s nice to have an hour or two of quiet with one another. Peter catches Stiles looking out the window as his coffee mug warms his hands. </p><p>Peter looks his fill. Pink dawn light warms his cheeks and makes Stiles’ eyes sparkle. He really is lucky, not just because of his mate’s beauty, but because of Stiles’ everything. The fluttering in his chest feels like the beginnings of love. “What are you thinking about?” Peter gently breaks their quiet.</p><p>Stiles gives him one of his small smiles as he turns to look at the wolf, “There’s a nest of warblers over there. It’s, it’s dumb, but sometimes it feels like they’re singing for me.” Stiles blushes and looks back down at his coffee. </p><p>Peter gently grasps his wrist then, stroking a thumb over his pulse point. “That’s not dumb at all Sweetheart. One day,” Peter pauses and runs his other hand through his hair, “One day, you’re going to have the confidence to match just how amazing you are.” Predictably, Stiles just curls into himself more. Peter walks around the table and pulls him into a deep hug, tucking Stiles’ head under his chin and rubbing his back. “But for now,” he whispers in the boy’s ear, “Paczki.”</p><p>As he hoped, that produces a soft chuckle.</p><p>-</p><p>Nan comes down the stairs to the smell of yeasted dough, sugar, and giggling. Her son wraps himself around Stiles as he tries to stir something. He wacks Peter’s knuckles with a spoon whenever he tries to sneak a taste of whatever Stiles stirs. “It’s not finished yet Peter!” He says softly, again tapping her son’s knuckles. “You’re going to make yourself sick! The eggs aren’t tempered.” </p><p>“It’s lemon curd!” Peter exclaims, “It’s my favorite, and wolves don’t get sick.”</p><p>Nan chuckles, “If I know you, there won’t be any left by the time it’s done.” Stiles jumps at her voice, but she does get a little smile from him once his heart goes back to normal. </p><p>“Sorry dear,” she says as she investigates all of the rows of filled and unfilled packzi on the kitchen counter. The finished donuts are covered in powdered sugar, the same sugar on her son’s shirt. </p><p>“I see you’ve been busy this morning,” she selects a chocolate filled treat, and takes a bite. So good. </p><p>She swallows “Is there room in here for one more? I want to get the birds in.”</p><p>-</p><p>Thanksgiving comes and goes. Peter warns Stiles about Laura and Cora’s tradition of staying awake all night to get to stores early for Black Friday, so he knows to avoid going downstairs at his usual time. He wants to stay away from that brand of madness. The girls stumble through the door in the afternoon weighted down with more bags than Stiles can count. </p><p>Stiles shivers just thinking about how much his feet would hurt after that. He burrows deeper into his blanket on the couch. Peter pulls him more closely into his side. There’s a movie on, but he’s in that drowsy, almost ready for a nap state. </p><p>Peter runs his fingers through Stiles’ hair. Stiles falls asleep just like that.</p><p>-</p><p>Monday comes too soon with much moaning and groaning after the long weekend. Winter exams loom for the folks in school while the trial stands at the forefront of Tali and Peter’s minds. </p><p>Stiles is lucky. He gets to dread both.</p><p>The school day flies by with a minimum of interruptions. The looks don’t stop, but no one is foolish enough to be direct with him while either the twins or Cora hover. They still haven’t figured out who sent the note, and the admiring looks towards the twins tend to come from a good portion of the student body. The attention makes the two wolves strut around like peacocks. </p><p>Even Jackson backs off. It’s strange to think that almost 10 years of bullying could end due to a few wolves hanging out with him, not that Jackson knows the secret. He’s only been back for a few days, but the change startles him. For once, it’s a good change. He can concentrate better. His homework gets done before the day it’s due, and he can even sit in the cafeteria with his friends without worrying about falling behind or getting laughed at. He thinks the twins might actually like him as a friend, not just a human third wheel to the Hale pack. </p><p>They’re both pretty great. While they may be identical twins, their personalities couldn’t be more different. Ethan is a laid back goofball, and has more puns at his disposal than anyone rightly should. Aiden is serious, so serious in fact that at first Stiles was convinced that the wolf hated him, and only tolerated him because of his brother. It took Aiden making a dry joke, and Stiles falling into a panic for Aiden to tell Stiles about his resting bitch face, resting bitch voice, and general stoicism. It’s a default. Ethan just about died laughing when he heard about it later.</p><p>Ethan tells yet another dad joke as they make their way outside after the day ends. Stiles worries again. The twins catch it, but don’t mention it. Cora won’t get a ride until after her field hockey practice, and the twins have their bikes. </p><p>Stiles has Peter. </p><p>Normally, he’d be excited to see his mate again, but today is different. The weird “feeling safe around your mate” thing that Nan talked to him about has fled the building. It doesn’t work if you know there’s danger coming your way. Even Peter’s smile looks a little forced and brittle as he waits for Stiles to get to him. </p><p>He’s giving his deposition today.</p><p>-</p><p>Peter leads him to a large conference room. A giant wood table fills the space with a video camera set up on one side. There are only two other chairs on the opposite side with water at each place. Peter leads him to one of those chairs. </p><p>Stiles knows Peter can’t stay. They’ve had this conversation already. Talia enters the room then and hugs Peter and then Stiles. As Stiles’ current guardian, she can sit in, but Peter has to leave. As an attorney not directly involved in the case, it would look bad for him to stay for testimony. Stiles gets it, but it doesn’t mean he likes it. </p><p>Peter pats Stiles on the shoulder, and squeezes his neck, “I’ll see you after, okay? You’re going to be fine.” One last squeeze and then he’s gone. </p><p>Stiles sits quietly with Talia. She holds his hand while they wait. A few minutes later, Deucalion and another man come through the door. Stiles swallows. His dad’s lawyer. The man looks greasy and disheveled. He carries a folder in his arms overflowing with papers. By comparison, Deuc looks like a shark. </p><p>The other lawyer sits down on one side of the camera across the table, Deuc on the other. His dad’s attorney puts all of his papers on the table, and wipes the sweat from his temples. The man smirks.</p><p>Stiles pales. One of the papers slides loose and sits in view of his chair. It’s a photo of his back in more detail than he’s seen in awhile. </p><p>Talia turns his head towards her, a frown on her face. There’s murmuring about recording, intimidating witnesses, and Deuc showing the table. Stiles closes his eyes, and puts his head on Talia’s shoulder. He’s not ready for this. She runs fingers through his hair, and hugs him with the other arm. Stiles breathes.</p><p>“Stiles,” She says gently, “we can wait a little bit if you want. It doesn’t have to happen today.”</p><p>He shakes his head against her, “N-no, no. I want to do this. I need to get this over with.”</p><p>He takes a deep breath and straightens. The recording light is on, but the lens is covered. His dad’s lawyer looks even sweatier than before. Deuc’s eyes go to the man every once in a while. When the alpha looks at the other lawyer, Stiles can see just how angry he is. Stiles is thankful that Deuc doesn’t look at him like that. He’d fall into a panic attack and never get out.</p><p>The table has been cleared. </p><p>“Are you ready Stiles?” Deucalion asks, looking at him. </p><p>Stiles nods. The cover comes off the lens, and Stiles takes a sip of water while he goes through the case title and why they’re here. It’s something that he’s gone over with the other wolf. </p><p>Stiles concentrates on the condensation on the glass, and the leftover ring of water sitting on the table. The perfect circle is broken up by little gaps of wood, shattering the appearance of perfection. </p><p>“Stiles,” Deucalion says. That has him look up. “Are you ready to talk about the night Peter found you?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for all of your feedback and reviews! I get so excited seeing them hit my inbox!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TRIGGER WARNING: Stiles describes some of his abuse.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles’ world narrows to Deuc’s face and Talia’s hand in his. The other lawyer asks questions, but he knows that if he looks at that man, he will crumble for good. Deuc wants to know about big events, hospital visits, and the like. The other lawyer, Mr. Richlan, keeps asking why he lied to his clinicians, teachers, adults. Or is he lying now? How can he be trusted?</p><p>Stiles doesn’t have a good answer for him. No matter what he says, Mr. Richlan scoffs or tries to poke holes in what he says, calling it simple teenage theater. Deucalion objects to more than one of his statements. Stiles thinks the Alpha wants the other lawyer to dig himself deeper. </p><p>Deuc asks about how he hurt his back. </p><p>Stiles shakes his head, “It’s not hurt. I forget sometimes, so dad has to remind me. I don’t, I can’t embarrass him. You know? He, we need to make sure he gets elected, or – or something bad could happen to the town. He’s gotta protect the town! So if, if I do something stupid, I can’t jeopordize his work!”</p><p>“Stiles,” Deuc gently interrupts, “how did the sheriff remind you?”</p><p>Stiles scrunches his eyes tightly together, and clasps Talia’s hand just as hard. He can’t manage to swallow around the lump in his throat. “I– He – there’s this thing in the kitchen. He likes to, he keeps it by the stove. So I remember. I think…. I can’t use it, touch it. I think it’s a press for sandwiches? I can’t, can’t touch it though.”  Just the thought makes him nauseous. Stiles can’t stop shivering. His hand shakes in Talia’s grip. The world gets a little hazy, less sharp, surreal. “He, when I mess up, he puts it on a burner, so I know I messed up. I can’t embarrass him. I know that. S-sometimes, I gotta be reminded. It hurts but I gotta be reminded.”</p><p>There are more questions, but Stiles feels like he’s watching a movie in his own body. When did it start, how often, who knew? One question from Deuc does bring him from this strange hazy place he finds himself in.</p><p>“Stiles,” the alpha asks, “what happened to your mother?”</p><p>Stiles breathes in and out, in and out. It doesn’t feel the same when Peter’s not there with him. His heart feels like it ricochets within his ribcage, trying to figure out how to escape. He focuses on his hand holding the glass of water. </p><p>“Stiles?” Talia asks, “Do we need to stop? Take a break?”</p><p>He shakes his head.</p><p>“I think they really loved each other once.” He coughs and covers his face, hunching down deeper into his seat. Closing his eyes isn’t enough anymore. Talia puts a hand on his shoulder. It’s good because otherwise he might fly apart.</p><p>“Dad was coming up for reelection. It was really close. I was 11 I think? Maybe 10. Mom, she kept trying to cheer him up. She used to say that ‘staying positive was a self-fulfilling prophecy’.” Stiles smiles a little behind his hands. He doesn’t remember his mom much anymore, but he does remember that phrase – mainly because he didn’t really understand it as a kid. </p><p>“He came home late one day, and mom and I, we were eating dinner at the table. I can’t, I can’t even remember what was for dinner, but he didn’t want it. Mom told him to grab a shower and she’d bring something up. It seemed like it was fine, I thought it was fine. Mom told me to finish my dinner, and she’d be right back.”</p><p>“They were, they yelled at each other upstairs. I don’t know what they said – I couldn’t hear what was wrong, but, but, there was a loud crashing sound, and and I heard dad run down the stairs. His boots are loud, really loud, and then the front door slammed.”</p><p>“In the morning, Dad said that Mom had a fit, so he, so he had to take her to the doctor's. They were keeping her. I wanted to bring her flowers. The peonies out front, they’re her favorite, and she was really excited because they’d just started blooming. Dad, he said we weren’t allowed to visit though. I never saw her again. I kept asking when she’d be better. I missed, I miss her.”</p><p>Stiles does fall apart then. No amount of hands on shoulders can put him back together again. Talia never leaves him, even as she looks to Deuc and Mr. Richlan to tell them they’re done for the day. Both men leave to be replaced by Peter walking in, not that Stiles notices. What he does feel are Peter’s arms slipping around him, Peter’s voice in his ear telling him to breathe, telling Stiles that he is so proud of him.</p><p>Stiles can’t pull himself back together again.</p><p>-</p><p>The ride home is quiet. Stiles leans his head against the window, and his breath fogs up the glass on each exhale. He knows the window is cold, but he doesn’t really care. Can’t really feel it. He’s empty </p><p>The tesla parks in the driveway, and Stiles feels frozen in his seat. There are two puppies (cubs?) playing in the yard. Peter squeezes his leg before getting out of the car. The two puppies circle around Peter. Eventually, he crouches down, pets their heads, and says something to them. Perky ears droop, tails go down. The two scuttle away to the back of the house.</p><p>Stiles leans back as Peter opens his door. </p><p>“Sweetheart, let’s get you inside okay?” with that he picks Stiles up from his seat. That’s good. He still shakes as if he’ll come apart any minute. </p><p>Stiles blinks and finds himself in bed surrounded by pillows and Peter. The man curls around him like a giant muscled wall. He presses his face more into his sweater covered chest, and can feel a purring, growling noise reverberate through his cheek and neck. Peter’s hands run through his hair and along his back. His scars. They know now. </p><p>Stiles still feels empty, but he doesn’t feel alone anymore. </p><p>-</p><p>Peter holds him and whispers stories about growing up with Talia, Nan, and Pop until he feels like he won’t shake apart anymore. It’s dark out by the time Stiles can respond in full sentences. </p><p>“‘m sorry,” he whispers.</p><p>Peter pauses, “What for?”</p><p>Stiles can’t look at him when he says what he needs, burrowing further into Peter’s sweater. “You’re stuck with me; I’m messed up.”</p><p>Peter hums, and begins to rub his back again, “Sweetheart.” Peter pauses to clear his throat, “It’s only been a little over two weeks since I found you, and I cannot imagine not speaking with you everyday, watching you become more at home with me, with our pack. I can’t wait to see what you become. You’re not messed up, you’re recovering.” </p><p>Peter hugs him even tighter, and has to clear his throat again. His voice sounds wet. “What you shared today – darling you survived. It terrifies me to think that there’s a world where I may not have known you, but I cannot let you go. Sweetheart, you’re the one stuck with me.” </p><p>Stiles hides his tears in Peter’s sweater. He doesn’t acknowledge the wetness in his hair where Peter rests his chin.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Steelcode made me do it (and ya'll think your reviews don't matter!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles feels like a wrung out dish rag in the morning. Peter doesn’t leave him, but the teen feels gross and worn. It’s definitely passed the time for school given just how much light filters through the window. He can’t find it in him to care. Stiles squirms more closely to Peter. The man wraps his arms more firmly around him in response.</p><p>“You with me now?’ the wolf asks. Stiles nods against his chest, but doesn’t want to move otherwise. It seems like Peter doesn’t mind.</p><p>The need to use the bathroom eventually breaks him out of his warm cocoon of blankets, pillows, and Peter. He throws in a shower for good measure.</p><p>Peter hasn’t moved from his bed. Stiles likes that he looks less polished, like it’s a secret only he’s allowed to see. </p><p>Peter smiles when Stiles comes through the door again, “I was thinking. I haven’t gone on a run for awhile. Want to go on a little excursion to the lake? We could do a picnic and relax for a bit. Get some sun.”</p><p>Stiles nods. It sounds nice. Maybe he could nap on one of those giant stones. </p><p>“Excellent,” Peter says, hopping up. “I’m going to clean up a little bit. Nan’s downstairs, and wants to fatten you up before loading us down with even more food. Think you can manage it?”</p><p>“Can I wait for you instead?” Stiles asks. He knows it’s just Nan, but he feels this need to stay close.</p><p>“Of course, Sweetheart.” Peter grabs Stiles’ current book off the nightstand, then grabs his hand to tug him out of the room, and into Peter’s. He hasn’t actually been in Peter’s room before. It’s down the hall, and the wolf can typically hear whenever Stiles might need him. </p><p>It’s large and well organized with a big bed against a wall with wood slats running vertical on a charcoal painted wall. A huge desk sits in the corner with neatly stacked papers. It all feels very modern, and very Peter. The scent of the man permeates the space. Amber &amp; wood smoke. Being in here, it all feels very intimate suddenly. Stiles shifts from foot to foot in the doorway.</p><p>He fully turns and puts his palm softly on Stiles’ cheek. He looks in Stiles eyes, and rubs a thumb against his cheekbone. “Okay?” Peter asks. </p><p>Stiles nods and shuffles inside when Peter tugs on his hand again, leading him over to an armchair in the corner. He pulls a throw blanket from the bed on the way, tucking Stiles into the chair. </p><p>“Okay, read your book. I won’t take long, I promise.” With one last hand through Stiles hair, he disappears through another door. Stiles glimpses tile on the floor before the door shuts completely. Bathroom then.</p><p>Stiles cracks his book open, but it’s futile. The blanket’s warm and he feels safe surrounded by scent.</p><p>Stiles falls asleep. </p><p>-</p><p>Peter walks out of the shower and immediately softens. Stiles opens his eyes slowly with the open book resting against his chest. </p><p>“Hmm Peter? Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he says, rubbing his eyes and sitting up a little more. </p><p>Peter smiles, “It’s fine darling. If you’re too tired, we don’t have to go out.” </p><p>“No!” Stiles says, it’s the loudest he’s ever been, which is to say that it’s most people’s indoor voice. “I mean, I want to go. It was just comfy,” he finishes in his usual near whisper.</p><p>“It’s okay, sweetheart,” the man says as he holds out a hand and then pulls Stiles up. </p><p>“Come on. First brunch, then the world!” Peter would make a fool of himself for just one more little  smile.</p><p>-</p><p>Stiles basks on one of the large stones in the lake. </p><p>It’s nice for December with the sun soaking through the rock like a giant heated blanket. It doesn’t stop Peter from wrapping him in even more blankets. “Can’t catch a cold if you’re not cold,” he tells the teen. Stiles shakes his head, but smiles anyway. </p><p>Once the wolf has Stiles settled and comfortable to Peter’s exacting standards, he starts stripping. Peter <em>winks</em> at him, and Stiles feels all of the blood rush to his cheeks. He’s never paid attention to other bodies before. There’s never been a reason to. The sheriff could find out, but if Peter is his mate, he’s allowed to look. </p><p>Right?</p><p>Stiles hides his face when the wolf starts on his pants. </p><p>Eventually the sound of the change ends and Stiles peaks out again. An enormous grey wolf stares back at him. Peter shakes out his coat, and wanders over, running his cold nose over Stiles’ cheek and down his neck. The wolf snuffles against his collar bone. </p><p>Stiles laughs, “Peter, it tickles!” Peter’s ears perk up at the sound, and Stiles thinks this is what a wolf smile must like. The wolf moves away, but Stiles can’t stop giggling. He throws his arms around Peter, sinking fingers deeply into his undercoat. </p><p>“You’re like a giant teddy bear,” he murmurs into Peter’s shoulder, calming down. The wolf curls his massive head over Stiles shoulder bringing him even closer. He let’s Stiles pull away when he’s ready. </p><p>“Thanks Peter,” Stiles says to the ground. It’s not about the trip to the lake. Peter responds by giving him a long lick from chin to temple. </p><p>“Peter! Gross!” Stiles actually shouts. Stiles uses one of the blankets to wipe his face, but he still smiles. Peter lets loose a deep bark before skipping across the lake stones. Mission accomplished. </p><p>Peter really is beautiful. White, gray and black appear and disappear in equal measures as his muscles bunch in his run. Stiles watches him until he vanishes into the tree line.  He doubts that Peter would take his eyes from him, even if Stiles can’t see him. He still feels safe.</p><p>Stiles hunkers back down in his ridiculous pile of blankets. He’s the only human in the house, and it’s probably why they treat him as if he’ll break at any second. Stiles has a book, but in a myriad of blankets and with heat radiating through his back, he can’t help but fall off into a doze again.</p><p>-</p><p>Water drips onto his face, waking him.</p><p>John groans – must be rain. The roof always leaks when it rains. He’d yelled at the guards, but no one gives a fuck about him. </p><p>Damning. </p><p>That’s what one of the papers said. He’s lucky that prison policy for former law enforcement is solitary. </p><p>His hands shake as he throws his thin mattress and pillow in the corner out of the way of leak. He needs a drink, a hot shower, and to wring Stiles’ neck. Probably in that order. </p><p>They say damning. He says bullshit. The county has no right to tell him how he can or can’t discipline his son. John’s not sure what the bastard told them, but they can’t do jack shit to him.</p><p>He’s the kid’s guardian for pity’s sake. Fuck them for thinking otherwise. </p><p>John stumbles to his rat’s nest. That kid better watch it when he gets out. If he thought the iron was bad, Stiles has no idea what’s coming when John finally receives vindication.</p><p>-</p><p>Deuc hasn’t slept since the revelation about Claudia. </p><p>That’s exactly what it is. There’s no way the woman could suddenly disappear in a town this small. She must have had relationships with neighbors, friends. Stiles said that the incident happened when the peonies were in bloom, that puts the time around late March, early April. With almost 7 years gone by, it’s not likely that evidence remains in the house – not with the Sheriff acting as the likely perpetrator. </p><p>Stiles’ deposition would get him a search of Claudia's hospital records in the area, but going back that far would take time. He needs more. </p><p>The Demon Wolf looks through the Stiles’ records again. It can’t be a coincidence, can it? Someone there must have known what was going on in that house. Unfortunately, the neighbors were renters, and the house properties are too large for people to hear anything regardless. </p><p>As far as he could see, Stiles really only went a few places: school, the grocery store, and his house. The hospital visits ranged from 4 on the low end to 9 a year on the high end. Deuc doesn’t think Stiles would need to cover much with someone while buying groceries - too intermittent - but school and the hospital?</p><p>Definitely.</p><p>The fewer people the Sheriff involves in his cover up the better. Deuc just needs to find those few people at each location, and squeeze them until they pop. One of them has to know about Claudia.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Talia can’t stop the deep frown on her face, sitting in her office at City Hall. She reads through the report so far from the DA’s office. Talia does not understand how this goes so deeply in her town. The immensity of this in a county of just fifty thousand people terrifies her. </p><p>In her territory no less. </p><p>It happened to Stiles, quite possibly the sweetest kid she’s ever met. Her pack now. Her Left Hand’s mate. Just this morning, Stiles looked at her, smiled a real smile, and said good morning. A month ago Peter brought him to the house covered in blood and unconscious. She didn’t believe their lives would expand the way they have. He’s brought so much joy, and Talia doubts he even recognizes it. </p><p>She never would have guessed the cause of all that blood. So far they’ve made the obvious connection of the Sheriff, but Deucalion’s evidence implicates others. Roger Lahey, the vice principal of the school, hid reports from teachers and calmed ruffled feathers when it appeared nothing was being done. He supported excuses that Stiles gave about falls, and lied about having check-ins with social services.</p><p>He covered up more than Stiles’ treatment. They found his son crying, locked in a freezer in the basement when they went to question the man. No one would have heard Isaac if Kali hadn’t been one of the officers on scene. They learned that the two men covered for each other when they finally questioned Lahey. The vice principal’s involvement also threw into harsh light his wife’s death almost 10 years ago. The police reopened that investigation. It’s a cause for too many coincidences. </p><p>They had to admit Isaac to the hospital for carbon monoxide poisoning and to treat his hands. The teen tried to claw his way out. Talia desperately wants to take him in, but needs to talk to the pack first, especially Stiles. Maybe consult with Janice. She doesn’t want to set him back. </p><p>The last person implicated was the one who surprised her the most. Dr. Alan Deaton, the lead ED attending, hid every single request for abuse investigation that came from his residents. During some of Stiles’ most terrifying visits to the ED, it appeared as if the Sheriff called the doctor in advance to make sure that he was on duty. If Deaton wasn’t, the man would arrive suddenly saying he had a “feeling” he was needed. Minutes later, Stiles and the Sheriff would appear in the waiting room.</p><p>As soon as the hospital discharged Stiles, always too soon based on Andrew’s review, the physician would leave the hospital as if he’d never been there. Deaton never clocked in or out. The only record of his treating Stiles were his signatures on the discharge paperwork. It was something nurses could never allow the doctor to avoid. They still had no idea how he became a part of the triangle in the first place. Deaton’s questioning involved lots of quiet smiles and very little talking. It infuriated Kali. The man didn’t even ask for a lawyer. </p><p>One thing Talia is absolutely sure of, no one would like why the good doctor became involved with other monsters. </p><p>Monsters travel in packs after all. </p><p>Perhaps one of the more curious pieces of the puzzle is Claudia. Her autopsy was run by Deaton for some strange reason. Talia has never heard of an ED physician moonlighting as a medical examiner. The report was a single page, and included no autopsy notes or photos. Deaton ruled that the woman died of natural causes, a brain aneurysm.</p><p>There’s no record of the body being moved, no final resting place. No one even remembers Stiles’ mother. </p><p>-</p><p>The bell rings, and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief. They have almost two weeks off for winter break. Things have gone okay with classes since the interview, but he still feels like he needs a break. </p><p>Mercifully, he’s managed to stay caught up on classes. The twins and Cora sit on the picnic table beside him outside of the school. They wait for Pop to pick Cora and Stiles up. All four have big smiles on their faces.  </p><p>Danny Mahealani meanders over to their group. He stands awkwardly at the end of the table where Ethan sits.</p><p>“Hey, how’s it going?” he asks the group. Stiles shrugs, knowing that he’s not the person Danny wants to talk to. It’s the first time one of the other students has approached their group without being required for assignments. </p><p>“Ethan, can I talk to you for a second?” Danny asks.</p><p>“Sure” Ethan responds, getting up. The two walk over to a large oak. It’s more private. </p><p>Cora rolls her eyes, “fucking finally” she says. </p><p>“Oh leave off” mutters Aiden. “Do you know how long Kira has been waiting on your dumbass?” Cora blushes all the way down her neck. Stiles laughs. The sound distracts Ethan from his conversation with Danny briefly. </p><p>Even Cora smiles. </p><p>Surprisingly, Stiles sees Peter’s tesla pull into the lot, and park near their table. He and Cora move to grab their stuff, but Cora pauses, listens and sits back down. He looks at her and frowns. </p><p>“Don’t look at me – he said he’s taking you somewhere,” Cora says. </p><p>Stiles shrugs, says his goodbyes, waves at Ethan and Danny, still talking, and makes his way to his mate’s car. </p><p>“Hi Sweetheart,” Peter smiles when Stiles shuts the door. “I thought we could take a trip to the lake.”</p><p>-</p><p>Deuc growls as he slams his car door. The case is a series of frustrations on top of frustrations. It’s not a problem of evidence. For once, he wishes it were. No, the problem is that there’s so damn much of it, and each piece he uncovers connects to some other god awful thing. It’s a spider web that has the Sheriff at it’s very center. </p><p>No one saw it before because the triangle’s actions spread well over a decade. Things that only seem a little weird by themselves paint a much bleaker picture when shown together in the light.</p><p>He has to stop from going up the steps. Deucalion can’t greet his pack in this state. The alpha removes his clothes, and leaves his briefcase on the stairs. Deuc needs a run. Not a moment later a great blonde wolf faces the house. He howls as he sprints into Muir Woods. </p><p>It’s well past dark now. No one will see him, and Kali will tell the others. </p><p>He runs through the forest, leaping from great tree to great tree. It gives his brain respite from this shithole of a case. He smells the wet soil and evergreen scent of his forest, and finally manages to slow down. The wolf gives one long howl for Stiles and Isaac. He truly hopes they can recover. It brings to light just how strong Peter’s mate is. He never would have thought that the Stiles he met during a pack barbeque was the same person from the deposition. </p><p>That’s where his pack find him. Fully shifted in a clearing thinking about the horrible things an ally’s mate went through. His twins feel it and see it everyday they go to the school with the teen. Kali hears it everyday at work, and Ennis by association. His wolves, his pack, file into the clearing and curl around him. The waxing moon watches over them all. </p><p>It’s been three weeks since Stiles’ deposition. Cadaver dogs found Claudia today.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hold onto your butts.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fuck.</p><p>That’s all he can think. Richlan just left the prison council room. </p><p>They found Claudia. They know about Lahey &amp; Deaton. Guards march him back to his cell, open the bars, and he waits against the cold metal for them to take off the cuffs. The door locks him inside, and he’s stuck looking at his small cement cell with a water stain under his bunk. </p><p>The guard leaves, and his space looks too orderly for what’s happening in his life. John shoves everything off of his bunk, tearing it all to pieces. He can ignore his shaking hands, and the ever creeping headache. John imagines beating Stiles as he smacks his pillow and mattress against the walls of his cell. It’s that bastard’s fault. </p><p>His lawyer is useless. John knows he has three months until the trial, three months to fix this mess. He pants harshly, sitting on his metal bunk, rapping his knuckles continuously against the metal. </p><p>There’s no way in hell he’s spending the rest of his life in this tiny cell.</p><p>He’s smarter than that bastard of a child.</p><p>-</p><p>Peter wraps his jacket around Stiles’ shoulders as they skip to what Stiles thinks is their spot at the lake. At four in the afternoon, the sun has warmed the rock all day and radiates into his backside as he sits criss-cross facing Peter. </p><p>The man holds his hand, stroking his thumb along the wrist. It makes Stiles nervous. Peter looks at their joined hands and won’t look up at Stiles. </p><p>‘What’s wrong?” Stiles asks quietly. There’s a lump in his throat, but he can’t wait any more. This isn’t how Peter typically acts. He’s always so confident. </p><p>The wolf pauses his hand motion, “Sweetheart, can I hold you?” Peter finally looks up at Stiles, and it takes Stiles’ breath away. He looks so sad. </p><p>In answer, Stiles practically falls into Peter’s lap, wrapping his arms around the wolf’s neck and crawling the rest of the way into his space. Stiles rests his head on Peter’s collar bone, breath ghosting over his neck. Peter swallows. </p><p>“Darling,” Peter swallows again, “Deuc’s been trying to untangle the case against the Sheriff.” Stiles takes a sharp inhale, and Peter clenches his arms around the teen tighter. “He found out about Lahey and Deaton.”</p><p>“My vice principal?” Stiles whispers. He can feel Peter nod his head. </p><p>“He helped provide cover. They found that his son was in a similar situation,” Peter says softly. “You didn’t know?”</p><p>Stiles shakes his head. “Just knew that my, the Sheriff and mister, doctor Deaton talked a lot.” Stiles hides in Peter’s neck and stutters out, “He- um he, used to, he always- he, sometimes, he sometimes he, he watched sometimes. And, and some, sometimes, it, you know the thing, he’s sometimes, it’d be, it’s gone after. Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry. I forgot, so stupid, sorry, I’m sorry…”</p><p>Peter gently shushes Stiles’ apologies, holding him tighter until they’re nothing. “It’s okay darling. You’re okay. People forget things all the time. It doesn’t make you stupid sweetheart. I promise this happens all the time.” </p><p>He rubs Stiles’ back, feeling the ridges, the scar tissue. Peter shivers, imaging a clinician sitting and watching something like this happen. It gives him chills. Oaths mean something. “First do no harm” should have meant something to the physician. Peter fears what else they’ll find. </p><p>“Stiles, sweetheart, it’s going to be okay.” Peter holds Stiles, wrapping his arms completely around the teen and holding him tight until there’s no space between them anymore. “Sweetheart, can I tell Deuc what you just told me?” Stiles nods; he can’t trust himself to speak anymore, just continues to hide against Peter’s neck. </p><p>“Darling, I know this is so hard, and you’re being so brave through all of this. Sweetheart, he found one more thing.” Peter pauses, and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He gently holds Stiles’ head to himself. The teen tenses.</p><p>There’s no gentle way to say this, “Stiles, they found your mother’s body.” </p><p>Peter hears his heart rate escalate, he feels Stiles begin to shiver and wetness gather at his collar. He senses all of these things, but can’t do anything to stop it. He just holds onto his mate as Stiles falls apart in his arms. </p><p>It’s the one thing he can do.</p><p>-</p><p>Deucalion looks through the autopsy from the state medical examiner. With a gnarly case like this, the California Attorney General gave him every resource he could possibly need. The only thing that stopped the AG from completely taking over was Deuc’s record and long-standing relationship with the man. </p><p>The state examiner did not disappoint either. Deucalion did not expect to find much on seven and half year old bones, but what was found was damning. By his estimate, Claudia was buried 7 years ago, aligning with Stiles’ statement. </p><p>She experienced massive blunt force trauma to the back of the head and upper spine. That was expected. They did not expect to find so much evidence of past fractures and breaks, some of which did not look like they had ever been treated. The bones healed crooked, telling the examiner that this was not a single event gone wrong. It proved a history of violence toward the examined, culminating in a clear homicide. </p><p>They’re still waiting on the test results of the rug the victim’s remains were found in, but he has a feeling that any case the Sheriff’s defense could come up with was just shot to shit. Evidence mounts; Deuc gives a grim smile. </p><p>His personal phone rings, breaking him from reading the rest of the report – what little there is left. </p><p>It’s Peter. The Left Hand skips the pleasantries, “Deuc, I just spoke with Stiles about the case. The fucking bastard was in the room the entire time! He watched the sheriff burn him and didn’t do a fucking thing to stop it.”</p><p>Deuc’s eyebrows draw together. “Peter, I need you to take a deep breath. Calm down. I want you to hang up, and call my workline. I have a feeling we will require a record of this conversation.”</p><p>Click.</p><p>Deucalion stands, stretches, and waits. It takes Peter 20 minutes to call him back, less time than he expects given the topic at hand. If it were his mate, he’s not sure if he could ever be calm.</p><p>“Hello,” Deucalion puts the office phone on speaker. He needs to move, pace. “Deuc, I updated Stiles on the case.” He can hear Peter take a deep breath and faintly hear his grip tighten on the phone, “He’s resting now. I knew he wouldn’t react well. Stiles, he broke down. He said that when his father, when the sheriff burned him, Deaton liked to watch.” Peter lets out a noise of grim frustration. </p><p>Deucalion continues pacing. Fuck.</p><p>“Look, I know you have him on conspiracy, but fuck, I think you need to get his house searched again.” Peter goes silent for a good minute, and Deuc feels like he needs to throw something. “Stiles said that Deaton used to take that thing he was burned with. He used to take it with him sometimes once his father was finished.”</p><p>“I don’t think that Deaton just knew what was going on,” Peter pauses, coughs. Deucalion can hear him try to contain his rage, “I think the fucker helped.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What say yea?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Special thanks to <strong>Steelcode</strong> for allowing me to run a few chapter ideas by them and having plenty in return!!!!!!!!!</p><p>
  <strong>You're supremely helpful and awesome. </strong>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter finds Stiles in one of the hammocks later. He’s in that drowsy, in between state where he’s not really there, but not really not there. It’s cold and dark, but it doesn’t matter anymore. He’d always hoped; he’d known better, but he’d still hoped that Mom would be alive somewhere waiting for him. </p><p>Dad took her too.</p><p>“Darling,” Peter whispers, running a hand through Stiles’ hair and looking down at the teen. “It’s cold out here. Will you come inside with me?” Stiles shakes, and shakes his head too. He’s not ready. There’s a family in there, but what if dad takes them away too?</p><p>Peter takes off his jacket and drapes it over Stiles. “Can I lay with you at least?”</p><p>At the teen’s nod, he gets in. Stiles didn’t know people could gracefully get into hammocks before meeting the Hales. Peter wraps his arms around Stiles and his warmth spreads through his mate. The man tucks the jacket more tightly around Stiles. </p><p>They lay quietly together. Stars sometimes peak through the canopy of the trees, and Stiles wonders if his mother is somewhere up there, trying to get a glimpse of him. The leaves rustle around them, but it’s silent otherwise. </p><p>Stiles leans more into Peter’s chest. The man radiates heat. Peter slowly trails his fingers up and down his spine. It feels so lazy; he’d enjoy this moment if it didn’t feel like the stars would break through the trees to collapse on top of him any moment. </p><p>“What if he takes you too?” It’s so quiet that Peter almost doesn’t understand him, even with his hearing.</p><p>He wraps his arms around Stiles’ shoulders to hold him closer. </p><p>“Darling, is that what you’re afraid of?” Peter asks, Stileswraps his own arm around Peter. He feels Stiles tighten his grip on his sweater and nod against his sternum. Peter keeps looking up at the tree canopy. It’s hard to figure out what to say. The truth is a platitude. </p><p>“I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now sweetheart. I really can’t.” Peter sighs, “But what I can say is that I’m confident in Deuc, in Talia, our pack. There’s so many people who are in our corner darling.” Peter brushes a kiss against the crown of Stiles head. “He won’t get past them, and he certainly won’t get past me.”</p><p>Stiles whispers, “You promise?”</p><p>“Yes darling,” Peter says just as quietly, “I promise.”</p><p>Peter gets Stiles inside a short time later. The teen’s dreams are full of burning.</p><p>-</p><p>The first week of winter break Stiles stays quiet. He’s more reserved than he’s been in weeks, pushes food around his plate, and stares out the window. It feels like their first week with Stiles all over again. </p><p>Andrew becomes concerned when Stiles starts to lose weight. </p><p>Peter doesn’t know what to do. Janice tells him that they’re working through it. Stiles, Andrew and Janice end up having their own conversation – his mate doesn’t have weight to lose. Stiles starts eating again at least, but only just to maintain himself.</p><p>Peter paces his room, and is so lost in thought that when Stiles knocks on his doorway it startles him. He gestures for Stiles to come in, and instead of going to the armchair (it quickly became Stiles’ chair), he walks right up to Peter and throws his arms around the wolf. Peter returns the hug immediately.</p><p>“Janice says I have to tell you,” Stiles mumbles.</p><p>“Tell me what Darling?” Peter asks. He basks in his mate’s scent. Stiles hasn’t been this close since the time on the hammock. Peter’s missed him. Janice didn’t want him to pressure the teen.</p><p>Stiles takes a deep breath and straightens his spine as much as he can without losing Peter’s arms.</p><p>“I have to go away. I mean, it’s my birthday tomorrow and I’ll be 18 so I have to move and I can’t stay anymore, so I wanted to say goodbye?” Stiles gets smaller and smaller as he speaks until he’s back where he started.</p><p>“Darling, why do you think you have to move?” Peter asks, completely befuddled. He had no idea his mate’s birthday was on the horizon. He can work out the rest. </p><p>Stiles hides his face against Peter’s chest and whispers,“I’m going to be 18 Peter. Talia won’t be responsible for me anymore. I can’t just keep taking up you all’s space.</p><p>Peter watches his dad in his doorway.</p><p>“Like hell you’re going anywhere kid,” Pop responds coming into the room. “When my Nan hears about your birthday, well someone’s going to have to help us eat cake.”</p><p>“But I’ll be 18,” Stiles says in a watery voice against Peter’s chest, “You all don’t have to do anything anymore.” Peter holds him tighter.</p><p>The wolf nudges Stiles’ cheek with his nose, pulls in all of the scents that make him Stiles. There’s something new under all of the scents of lightning and cotton, almost floral.  “Darling,” he whispers, “You can’t leave me so soon. I just found you.”</p><p>“Besides,” Pop jumps in, coming up behind Stiles to sandwich him between the two wolves, “once you’re pack, you can’t get rid of us. We want you here kid.”</p><p>Stiles sniffles, “Really?”</p><p>“Of course. You make my boy happier than he’s ever been.” Pop gives him one last squeeze as Peter mumbles “Dad.” Stiles looks up with a ghost of a smile on his face. </p><p>Pop steps back, looks Peter in the eye and asks, “Am I lyin?”</p><p>Peter tightens his arms around his mate, but rolls his eyes at his dad, “No.”</p><p>Pop smiles, “Well good, I gotta tell my sweetheart about this cake business.” Pop gives his son a look with Stiles back turned, and shuts Peter’s door on the way out. </p><p>Peter releases a deep sigh. It feels like relief.</p><p>Stiles hides in Peter’s chest again, “m sorry” he mumbles.</p><p>Peter pulls away a little bit, so he can look at Stiles’ face. Stiles keeps his eyes down. Tears dry on his cheeks, and Peter cradles his cheeks wiping away the evidence of his fear with his thumbs. </p><p>“Stiles please look at me,” he whispers. When his mate can finally meet his eyes, Peter whispers, “I love you. Please don’t hide from me when you’re scared. I’ve worried so much about you.” Peter leans his forehead against Stiles’. “You haven’t been sleeping or eating. I can’t lose you.” Peter feels water collect in his lashes at the thought, “Just promise you’ll tell me if anything is wrong, please?”</p><p>“Promise,” Stiles whispers. “I love you too.” Peter’s mate closes the short distance between their lips. </p><p>It’s chaste, just a light brush of their lips, but it’s perfect, and it’s theirs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>People! We have one more chapter (maybe less than?) of fluff before we get into the ish. </p><p>Be prepared. It's going to get worse before it gets better.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks Steelcode!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles wakes up an adult the next day. He doesn’t feel any different.</p><p>Peter’s arm tightens around his clothed hip as he shifts back into the wolf. It’s not a far distance. He feels so warm, and exhaustion still sits under his eyes, but it doesn't feel like it will drag him under any moment like before.  </p><p>Stiles flushes lightly as Peter nuzzles the nape of his neck. He couldn’t leave Peter yesterday. Not after everything. Peter listened, and between him and Pop, disbanded every single worry he carried with him. Stiles felt like he grew wings, he became so light.</p><p>Janice tried to tell him and then tried to coach him, but his birthday just kind of snuck up, and all Stiles could imagine was never seeing Peter again, maybe living in his Dad’s old house before he was kicked out of that too. Fear made him spiral. He sees that now. </p><p>Peter breaks Stiles from his thoughts, practically purring while rubbing his cheek against Stiles’ hair. “Darling, I may need to wake up like this every day,” he whispers in Stiles' ear. It makes a little smile build on his lips. He pushes back even further into Peter’s arms.</p><p>Stiles whispers, “You promise?” before turning to cuddle into his wolf’s chest.</p><p>“Oh Sweetheart, are you sure it’s not my birthday?” Peter asks, trailing a heavy palm up and down Stiles’ back. “That sounds like the greatest gift someone could ever give me.”</p><p>Stiles nods, but hides in Peter’s chest. The wolf wears an old shirt that feels soft under his cheek. It even smells like Peter. Stiles rubs his cheek back and forth as his eyes drift closed again. He’s still so tired, and Peter makes everything that hazy, warm kind of comfortable. </p><p>Just a few more minutes.</p><p>-</p><p>Stiles shuffles downstairs swimming in one of his mate’s sweaters and a pair of jeans. Peter holds his hand while the other still clamps on the polished railing. The moment makes him think back to almost two months ago when he felt so hurt, confused, and tired. </p><p>He squeezes his mate’s hand as he reaches the bottom step, level with Peter standing on the floor. The wolf leans forward, and gently kisses Stiles. He can’t help but smile. Today is so different than such a short time ago, but there are similarities.</p><p>He still has Peter. </p><p>His wolf tugs him towards the kitchen, and Stiles’ eyes get large and round. The entire family sits at the table. That in and of itself would be strange at 10:30 on a Saturday, but Stiles also can’t even see the table, there’s so much stuff. Brightly wrapped boxes intersperse a plethora of treats. </p><p>Stiles freezes, and tugs on Peter’s hand until the wolf hunches a little into Stiles’ space. “Peter” Stiles whispers, even more quiet than normal, “what’s going on?”</p><p>Peter smiles at his mate gently, “It’s your birthday darling. We didn’t have time to plan like we normally do; I’m sorry about that Sweetheart, but we still wanted to do something. Deuc  agreed to host dinner - the twins wanted to make something for you.”</p><p>“This is all for me?” Stiles whispers in the doorway to the kitchen, and Peter’s heart breaks all over again. </p><p>“Of course darling,” Peter says and tucks an arm around Stiles’ waist. </p><p>“Stiles!” One of the twins, Izzy yells. Stiles grunts and almost falls over when the seven year old runs into his legs. Peter manages to keep him upright, but then almost falls over himself when Eli beelines into his own legs.</p><p>“Stiles! Mama says it’s your birthday!” Izzy yells at the same time Eli yells “Birthday, Birthday, Happy Birthday!”</p><p>Peter tries to look stern, “Isabelle, I love your enthusiasm, but we’ve talked about treating Stiles like that, haven’t we?”</p><p>Izzy nods and pulls away, looking guiltily at the ground, “Humans are squishy so we can’t play with them.”</p><p>“Izzy, what do you say?” Talia calls from the table.</p><p>“Sorry Stiles…” she mumbles.</p><p>“S’ok Izzy.” Stiles gently pushes the kid back towards the packed table. She gives him one last hug that’s a bit too tight before running back to the kitchen table, and jumps at her dad with a giggle. Eli follows and Andrew laughs catching both, well used to their antics by now. </p><p>Stiles smiles his small smile. He turns to Peter and whispers, “It’s really for me? Mom, she used to bake me a cupcake before, but never something like this. Peter, this is too much. I’ve never gotten presents before. You shouldn’t have gone through all this.”</p><p>Peter tries not to let all these things shake him. “Sweetheart, all i’m hearing is that I haven’t done a good enough job of spoiling you yet.”</p><p>“Stiiiiiiiiilessss, come on. There’s cake for breakfast!” yells Eli, flung over his father’s shoulder. Laura gives him a noogie while the kid squawks in indignation. </p><p>It makes Stiles giggle. Peter leads him to the table, arm warm around his hips. Their pack is waiting.</p><p>-</p><p>Getting to Deuc’s is an interesting affair all its own.</p><p>It starts off with the pack shuffling to figure out the car situation. Cora and Laura end up in the back of the tesla with Peter and Stiles upfront. The girls demand Beyonce, and Peter hands over control to the speakers to keep arguments to a minimum. It makes Stiles smile – Peter is more of an NPR kind of guy.</p><p>Stiles doesn’t pay much attention. He’s never left Beacon Hills, and so watches the scenery change as they get closer to San Francisco. </p><p>Then they drive through the city. The buildings are so tall! Stiles can’t even see the tops of them from the car window. He wants to roll down the window and stick his head out, but Laura and Cora might laugh at him. </p><p>“Do you think we could come back someday?” Stiles whispers to Peter. </p><p>“Of course sweetheart. Do you like the city?” Peter asks. He puts his hand on Stiles’ knee and squeezes gently, waiting for the light to turn. Traffic Isn't too bad for a Saturday. Things are moving at least. </p><p>“I don’t know, but the buildings are so large Peter	! What do you do in a city?” Stiles asks, lacing their fingers together. </p><p>“Wait,” Cora says, “You’ve never been to SF? But it’s like, less than an hour away-” Laura cuts her off with a hand over her mouth. The 22 year old smiles at Stiles, but gives Cora a <em>look</em>. </p><p> </p><p>“Of course we can Stiles!” Laura starts talking like she didn’t just mute her sister, “there’s loads to do. There’s golden gate park, and all these great little coffee shops. Oh! Chinatown. You need to see the SF MoMA too. It’s incredible.”</p><p>“Maybe we can spend a weekend in the city once the weather gets nice?” Peter asks.</p><p>“Really?” Stiles asks with a bit of wonder in his voice. “Peter, that would be amazing.”</p><p>Peter squeezes his hand and they listen to Laura and Cora talk about all the things he needs to see in the city. The wolf wishes he could watch Stiles eyes widen in wonder, and finds himself excited about a weekend away, just the two of them.</p><p>His brain already turns on how to make it sooner rather than later. </p><p>-</p><p>The Blackwood Pack house sits on a hundred acres butting up against Muir Woods National Park. Stiles thought the trees in the preserve were large, some of the redwoods here look like those trees great great grandparents. </p><p>The pack house looks like it grows out of the forest around it. The great log cabin has huge windows that look out into the surrounding areas with a porch that wraps around everything that Stiles can see. It’s beautiful. </p><p>Before Peter’s car even rolls to a stop, the front door opens and Kira shoots out the door. Cora doesn’t wait for the car to stop either. </p><p>Laura rolls her eyes and mutters “mates” under her breath as she gets out at a more sedate pace, and Stiles finally gets it. He imagines knowing Peter exists and not being able to see him everyday. It’s what he’s feared all week. Stiles shivers grasping Peter’s hand tighter. </p><p>“Okay Sweetheart?” Peter asks.</p><p>“Yeah, I was just thinking about knowing you, but not seeing you everyday. I didn’t know Cora and Kira are together. Must be hard…” Stiles stutters to a stop lamely.</p><p>“We’re a bit different darling, and that’s okay. Cora and Kira are courting; it’s typical for mates between packs. They didn’t meet under the same circumstances we did, so they don’t have the same instinctual need,” Peter explains calmly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Stiles’ hand.</p><p>“You won’t leave right? When everything calms down?” Stiles asks, looking at their hands. His wolf grips his chin to turn his head. He brushes Stiles’ lips with another light kiss. </p><p>Peter responds fiercely looking into Stiles’ eyes, “Nothing could keep me away.”</p><p>-</p><p>Dinner is a bit crazy.</p><p>The pack has a huge dining table under the porch awning outside. With Stiles back to a roaring outdoor fireplace, the cold doesn’t even touch him. It’s a loud affair with 6 or 7 conversations going on at once and food getting passed around continuously. Stiles sits between Peter and Ethan, with Deuc sitting across from him telling stories of just what Peter got up to in law school. It turns out Deucalion was his professor and mentor. </p><p>Stiles leans more and more heavily into Peter as the night progresses. He feels sleepy and warm with a full belly. Every once in a while, Peter looks down at him fondly and rubs a hand down his shoulder. </p><p>He wants to stay awake, so this day never ends. Eventually the heat of the fire and Peter get to him, and he just can’t seem to keep his eyes open any longer.</p><p>It’s the best day he’s ever had.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>a last bit of sweetness - I promise we'll get back to it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The new year brings more than one surprise for everyone.</p><p>Deucalion and Peter walk into the BH District Attorney’s office together after lunch, and his admin waves the two over quickly.</p><p>“Sir,” she whispers, glancing over at the conference room that Deuc has plastered with evidence, “Mr. Hale, someone from the FBI appeared a little while ago. He said he may be able to help with the case? The guy just went into your conference room – I told him he had to wait!”</p><p>Deucalion and Peter look at one another. This could be very good or very bad. Both immediately turn to the room in question, The Alpha taking the lead as it’s his case. </p><p>“Hello, I am the lead prosecutor on the case against Stilinski, Deaton, and Lahey. Can I help you with something Agent…?” Deuc trails off, hoping for a name. </p><p>The agent’s tall, long faced with a bit of a crooked nose. Peter would even venture to say he’d be handsome if not for the heavy bags under his eyes. “Ah yeah, Special Agent Rafe McCall. I would have come sooner, but I was on a UC assignment, and didn’t hear about this until last night.” The man scrubs a hand through a mess of dark brown hair. </p><p>“My son used to be very good friends with Stiles,” McCall starts, “I’ve been worried about him.”</p><p>“Scott?” Peter asks, suprised. “How is he? Stiles has a lot of fond memories of your son.”</p><p>“That’s why I’m here,” the agent says, “I haven’t seen my wife or son for 7 years.”</p><p>Peter feels the blood drain from his face, and Deuc puts a hand on his shoulder. </p><p>Deucalion sighs, “Agent, it seems we have a lot to catch up on.” </p><p>Peter looks at McCall, “this case is much bigger than we thought.”</p><p>“Please,” the agent implores, “Tell me everything.”</p><p>-</p><p>Rafe and Melissa were loved by the community. He took the high school to the state championships in baseball, and brought the title home his senior year. Melissa cheered him on all the way while still managing to graduate valedictorian. They were the kind of high school sweethearts that the old ladies town loved to brag about. </p><p>Both wanted to stay close to home for college, and with Melissa receiving a full ride to nursing school at UCBH, it seemed like a no brainer. She wanted to be close to her parents in declining health, and the criminal justice program would get Rafe on track to head to the Bureau like he always wanted. </p><p>They were happy in their small town.</p><p>On graduating college, they both got lucky again. Rafe was a shoe-in for the FBI academy and Melissa got a job working in the Emergency Department at the local hospital. In a blink Rafe graduated from Quantico, and came back to the west coast. </p><p>Melissa said yes. </p><p>In no time, they had a little house in suburbs with a bouncing baby boy, and Rafe had an hour commute to San Franscico on a good day.  Melissa loved her job and Scott loved his best friend Stiles, but they all knew that 10 years was too long to make that kind of commute. Late night cases got worse, not better.</p><p>Melissa missed her husband, and Scott missed his dad. </p><p>The family made the decision to move to San Francisco. Friends watched Rafe try to juggle his dream job and his family for too long. Movers came to help with packing, and pretty soon Melissa had one last shift at the hospital. Scott had one last sleepover with his best friend. </p><p>They never made it to San Francisco. The red roses Rafe got Melissa died on their new granite countertop. </p><p>-</p><p>“I should have helped them move, told them that I wanted all of us to be together for our first night in the new house.” Rafe mumbles into his hands, wiping his cheeks with his fingers. </p><p>Peter hands him a tissue. </p><p>“When Melissa didn’t get in or return any of my calls, I got worried. I called the hospital. One of the receptionists said that she left after the staff threw her a going away party. Said the hospital let her go a little early,” Rafe clenches the tissue until it begins to tear in his hands. I drove back here, searched everywhere I could think of, but it’s like they’d vanished into thin air.”</p><p>“That fucking bastard at the station didn’t even give a shit. My son was his kid’s best friend since they were in diapers, and it took him fucking <em>days</em> to put some shit head fresh out of the academy on it. I pushed, God how I pushed, for more, to go faster, but John would just smirk and say it was local jurisdiction. Anyone I spoke with in town had no clue about what I was talking about, saying they saw Melissa leave town. “ Rafe takes a deep breath and whispers, “I tried for two years. I got nowhere. Crawled into the bottle and had to crawl my way back out.”</p><p>He looks at Deuc and Peter, “I know those fuckers did something to my family. Help me prove it.”</p><p>-</p><p>The warrant for Deaton’s private practice and his home go through. </p><p>It’s the second time going through the house, but the first going through his practice. They have to bring in a medical compliance officer to ensure patient confidentiality, which is a task in and of itself. </p><p>McCall flexes his contacts at Bureau – it would have taken months versus just a few days otherwise. The person he brings in is <em>good</em>. Within hours, Deuc has Stiles’ full medical record including more complete reports and reactions to hospital visits and what Deaton calls home “treatments.”</p><p>He describes the sounds that Stiles makes, the quality of his skin before and after, and the man even estimates the pressure Stilinski applies. Deuc can’t show this to Peter. He feels his own protective instincts rise at the clinical and curious language used to describe torture of a child. It makes his chest ache, imagining if his own child were in this situation. </p><p>Peter would go feral if he read what his mate went through. </p><p>By 11 that night, he has Claudia Stilinski’s records. The face doesn’t fit the name.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Deuc needed a change after graduating Oxford, and then London, applying his particular brand of viciousness to corporate law. Deucalion’s world tilted on its axis when he took out a rogue alpha for his pack. His own Alpha just smiled, told him to pack a bag, and gave him a large property on the wrong side of the United States. </p><p>He left London with a hundred acres to call home and glowing references from his former legal firm. The newly minted alpha never expected his life to turn out well once his eyes glowed red.</p><p>Ennis and Kali were a welcome surprise. With his former alpha’s blessing, they drove him to the airport, and then shocked him by submitting to him in a family bathroom at the airport before rushing on the plane with him, tickets already bought. It wasn’t glamorous, but it felt like a new beginning. He never imagined this would be his life, but having his best friend and her mate with him helped more than anything to transition. </p><p>Over 25 years ago, San Francisco was just on the edge of becoming something else. The three wolves fell in love with the quirky and creative city. Stanford University was beginning to get a reputation as a technology hub, and they wanted someone to lead their law school with experience in the place where tech and law met. It was easy to secure it for himself.</p><p>On the cusp of thirty, he finally felt like he belonged somewhere. </p><p>Then one day he saw her running through his woods. Deep gold, almost beta gold eyes, set off creamy pale skin and deep chocolate hair. Deucalion knew immediately that she was his. He also knew she was Other.</p><p>It was that knowledge that let him chase her in his wolf form. It didn’t take her long to notice him. When she did, she laughed and ran faster. His eyes glowed as he followed her deeper into his woods. </p><p>“You’ll have to do better than that Alpha!” the woman teased before Deucalion lost her scent completely. </p><p>It took him hours to finally catch her, but when he did, she promised to be his forever. </p><p>Five years later, Deucalion lost her to a car crash. He never expected something so mundane to steal his Spark. Her body was taken by a strong river current. Blood everywhere and a broken windshield told the story. </p><p>Half of him died that day. He never got to say goodbye, never even found her. </p><p>-</p><p>Deucalion tries to breathe deep, reminding himself that he’s sitting in the third floor conference room of the DA's office. He’s not, he can’t – she was alive and he never knew. He promised to love her and protect her always - his emissary, his love. His Mate. </p><p>Why hadn’t he felt her? He should have been able to follow the bond, but it snapped. Disappeared, just like the loss of a pack member. He gave up. Eighteen years later and he’s too late. </p><p>Eighteen years.</p><p>Stiles. </p><p>Deucalion’s grip snaps. </p><p>-</p><p>It’s well past 2am when Peter hears the car in the driveway. Peter quietly shushes Stiles back to sleep as he gets out of bed, and moves downstairs to investigate. He’s halfway down the stairs when the yelling and howling start. </p><p>“Stiles!” Deucalion begs. “Stiles, dear boy, please?”</p><p>Peter opens the front door to find Deuc in beta form crying on the steps, clutching one of the files from Deaton’s office. He’s never heard the alpha use that tone before. Pleading.</p><p>“Please Stiles?” Deuc cries again. He curls on the porch around the file in his arms. The man stinks of sadness, pain and self-hate. Peter has no idea what to do. He hugs the wolf and tries to calm him, but nothing works. He’s never seen his mentor like this. It raises his proverbial hackles to hear the alpha call for his own mate, but he tries to push it down. </p><p>Has the case finally gotten to him?</p><p>The porch light turns on, and Talia eases the door open further. Peter sees Andrew behind her. Reinforcements.</p><p>“Peter, call Ennis and Kali,” Talia whispers before going to Deuc, wrapping the other Alpha in a hug and whispering comforting words – trying to contain him.</p><p>Peter hears “They had her. They had her, he’s mine.” Over and over again. The screaming and crying cause the rest of the house to wake up. Peter hears his mate stir in their bedroom. </p><p>The phone continues ringing in his ear, until it finally connects.</p><p>“What” a rough voice growls. “Peter, I swear…” he hears Kali in the background. Conversation pauses when Deuc’s cries reach their ears, even through the phone. </p><p>“We’ll be there shortly,” Ennis replies in that same gravelly voice and hangs up.</p><p>Peter hears his mate’s heart rabbiting too hard in his chest in panic before he sees Stiles stumbling at the top of the stairs. He rushes up the staircase to meet Stiles before he falls.</p><p>“Darling, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Peter whispers into his ear. “Breathe with me sweetheart.” Stiles rests his head against Peter’s chest, feeling it go slowly up and down while Deucalion cries in the background. The wolf knows he doesn’t do well when he’s shocked awake.</p><p>Deucalion begins to calm outside at the pace Stiles does.</p><p>Peter hears Deuc beg the other Alpha, “Please Talia, please let me see him. Please let me see my son.”</p><p>Peter tightens his grip on Stiles. He promised no one would take him away, and he meant it. If it’s true, this is not the way for Stiles to learn about it.</p><p>“Peter,” Stiles whispers, “what’s going on?” Peter’s happy that his mate doesn’t have his senses.</p><p>He rubs Stiles’ arms, his mate always feels so cold, and not for the first time he wishes he’d enacted more personalized revenge against the sheriff. </p><p>“Deuc’s on the porch sweetheart.” Peter swallows hard, “I think he found something about the case.” He tightens his arms around the teen’s back.</p><p>“It’s bad?” Stiles asks into his chest. Peter feels him shiver in his thin shirt and pajamas.</p><p>He leans his forehead against Stiles, “I’m not sure darling, but know that I’ve got you. We’re in this together.” </p><p>Talia whispers so that his mate can’t hear, “Peter, can you keep Stiles in your bedroom? I don’t want him visible until Deuc has calmed, and we understand what’s going on.” Stiles keeps shivering against his chest. </p><p>Peter rubs up and down Stiles’ back, “Darling, let’s get you something warmer to wear.” He leads his mate back to bed with an arm over his shoulders. “It’s going to be okay.” Peter doesn’t know if he says it to Stiles or himself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter hears his dad go downstairs and relaxes minutely. It makes him uncomfortable to leave his alpha to a potential threat, but at the same time, he recognizes she’s right. They have no idea why Deuc came so late, other than it has to do with Stiles. Keeping his mate calm and most importantly, away, has to be the priority.</p><p>Having the former Left Hand downstairs makes him feel infinitely better. Dad taught him everything he knows after all. He gets Stiles settled in bed and tucks him in tightly. It does something to see his mate in his space, already starting to drowse off to sleep. Peter strokes a hand through his hair, sitting up in bed while Stiles stays curled at his hip. </p><p>His mate’s heart slows into sleep, and Peter focuses all of his attention downstairs. No matter their relationship, if Deuc is a threat to his mate he’ll take care of it.</p><p>-</p><p>Talia watches the other Alpha get ahold of himself. She holds the other man on the steps of her front porch with her parents, Laura and Cora behind her. She hears her dad shuffle through the file behind her. Her parents only had a passing acquaintance with the Blackwood pack, meeting once or twice a year until Peter started following him like a duckling at Stanford. </p><p>Their alliance deepened further when they found that Kira and Cora were mated. Now this. She rocks the man as tears still fall down his cheeks, and waits for his Right and Left Hand to arrive. </p><p>Her father stops flipping through and draws in a breath. He sits on Deuc’s otherside. Talia doesn’t like him so close. </p><p>“Deucalion,” Pop asks in a serious tone that Talia hasn’t heard since her father retired, “Stiles’ mother, this is your Marie, isn’t it?”</p><p>Deucalion nods his head and tries to cover his eyes with his hands; he can’t reach in Talia’s hold, so rocks back and forth. “She’s mine, she’s mine. I didn’t know,” he mumbles through his tears. “I didn’t know,” he pleads looking at Pop. </p><p>“Oh hell son,” Pop replies, standing and pulling Deuc with him. “Come on. You need a cuppa.” Talia goes to disagree with her father, she does not want other wolves in the pack's den, but he gives her a hard stare in return before glancing at her mom. He slings Deuc’s arm over his shoulder and walks the other alpha straight through the door like this is something they do every day. </p><p>She moves to follow and reprimand her own father, but her mother catches her arm, “Talia, hun, just this once, the rules don’t apply. Marie was his mate.” That, coming from her former alpha, is enough to make her let go of her anger. His mate was Claudia Stilinski. It shakes her to the core just imagining.</p><p>What if it had been Andrew?</p><p>She hears Deucalion cry into her father’s shoulder and shudders. What if it had been one of her children?</p><p>-</p><p>Kali and Ennis drive like the hounds of hell follow them. They can feel Deuc’s distress through the bonds more and more as they get closer to the Hales. No one expects to get woken in the middle of night to the sounds of their alpha crying on another pack’s doorstep. </p><p>Things get even stranger when they arrive and Nan ushers them <em>inside</em> the house.  The two packs have been as close as packs could possibly be for more than 6 years, but they’ve never been in each other’s den. That more than anything freaks Ennis the fuck out. </p><p>They could hear Deuc’s hitched breathing on walking in. He’s ensconced between Talia and her father on one of the giant couches in the living room. </p><p>He looks absolutely devastated. </p><p>Ennis asks, “What happened,” to the quiet room. Deucalion rushes to his betas, hugging them both. They surround their alpha, scenting him, trying to cover the stress, trying to make him smell like theirs again. </p><p>Ennis hasn’t seen him like this in years.</p><p>Deuc whimpers in their hold, “I found her. She was here all along. Fuck, she was here and now she’s gone.”</p><p>Kali rubs their Alpha’s back, “Deuc, who did you find?”</p><p>Deucalion tightens his grip on both of his betas, “I found Marie, my mate.” He breathes in his pack, “She’s Claudia Stilinski.” </p><p>Kali hugs him more tightly. She doesn’t have time to be shocked, not with her alpha falling apart in nother pack’s den. She compartmentalizes to deal with later. It’s a quirk every Left Hand learns quickly. Everything makes sense now.</p><p>She shushes Deuc gently as he’s done many times for her, and looks at Talia in pajamas and a hastily thrown on robe. She catalogues the room. Peter and Stiles are noticeably absent.</p><p>Ennis steps away from the other two and formally states, “Thank you Alpha Hale for providing shelter to our Alpha during this time.”  </p><p>Talia nods just as formally. “Peter has just gotten Stiles to rest. He doesn’t do well with being startled. I invite you and yours to rest here if you’d like.”</p><p>Stiles. </p><p>Kali’s eyes widen as she puts two and two together. She feels Deucalion become even more defeated at the announcement. To lose a mate again and find a son all in one night. She tightens her arms further around her alpha. He buries his nose in her neck and breathes deep before straightening completely. </p><p>He steps away to also face the other Alpha and scrubs a hand over his eyes, “Alpha Hale, Talia, I understand.” His breath hitches, “I’ve just found him, but I do want what’s best for Stiles. Just, just please don’t hide him from me. I can’t survive it again.”</p><p>Talia softens, thinking of her own children. “Deuc, I promise you that is the furthest from anyone’s mind. Now rest, you’ll need a clear head for the morning.”</p><p>-</p><p>Stiles wakes feeling fuzzier than usual. Peter sits against the headboard; it doesn’t look like he’s slept at all. Stiles rubs his forehead against Peter’s hip as he stretches. </p><p>He yawns, hiding against Peter’s side. “You okay? You don’t look like you slept at all,” Stiles whispers. </p><p>Peter moves to lay down beside his mate, and puts an arm around him to drag him closer. He breathes deep, taking in the scent of sleepy contentment. “Sweetheart, remember how Deuc came over late last night?” He feels Stiles nod against him, scent beginning to prickle with anxiety. “He did find something, and needs to talk to you when we go downstairs.” Stiles’ breath hitches. “Darling I promise it’s not bad, and there’s no rush. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”</p><p>Stiles nods against his chest again. Peter gives him one more long hug before Stiles stumbles to the shower. </p><p>-</p><p>Deuc hears the moment Peter’s door opens, the sound of his son’s heartbeat as it intertwines with Peter’s. His son. The alpha clutches the picture of his mate closer. He could do this.</p><p>Ennis puts a hand on his shoulder. It’s possibly the only thing that keeps him seated at Talia’s table instead of rushing headlong to the source of that sound.</p><p>When Stiles precedes Peter into the kitchen, the Alpha freezes. It’s only his fourth time meeting Stiles, but it’s the first time that he truly sees his son. Stiles shuffles to sit in front of him at the table, looking concerned. Anxiety permeates his boy’s scent. Under that, he smells of lightning, cotton, and something floral. Deucalion blinks tears from his eyes. </p><p>Marie always smelt like peonies. </p><p>He watches Peter sit beside his son, and wrap an arm around him. Deuc has to stop himself from growling. He likes Peter. He’s always liked Peter, even when he was a knowitall junior following him around the quad asking questions about the JD program.</p><p>Deuc breathes deep, and is again reminded of his Marie’s scent.</p><p>Stiles quietly asks, “Deuc, are you okay? Peter said, he said you found something?”</p><p>Deucalion nods, and looks at the picture of his Marie one more time before sliding it across the table. He has to clear his throat several times, “Stiles, do you know who this is?”</p><p>Stiles delicately picks up the photo from the table, tears rolling down his cheeks now. The teen can’t look away from the picture, but he still nods, “It’s my mom. I haven’t, he threw away everything. I couldn’t, I lost all her photos. I haven’t seen her in so long.” </p><p>Deucalion cannot look away from the teen across from him, “Stiles, that’s my mate, my Marie. We thought, I thought she died over eighteen years ago.” </p><p>He takes a deep breath, “I believe you’re my son.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>How do Deuc and Stiles bond?</p><p>For folks also reading Like Air, I think I'm going to get through this one and then move back to that guy. I never realized how difficult it is to juggle stories. </p><p>I truly appreciate all of your reviews. They really make me smile when they hit my inbox. Glad that you all are rolling with the surprises : D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles draws his eyebrows together. Nothing makes sense. It doesn’t make any sense. He traces the curve of his mom’s chin in the photograph. The teen can’t take his eyes off of it. His mom’s not smiling in the picture. She looks sadder than he remembers. </p><p>Peter rubs down his spine, and it breaks him away from his thoughts. Stiles looks up at Deucalion. “I don’t understand,” he whispers. “Mom, she always told stories about dad, how they met. He didn’t, I didn’t understand. He always yelled at her.”</p><p>Stiles looks back down at the photo. His mom gave him his eyes.</p><p>Stiles scrunches his eyebrows up together. It’s been so long since he’s been able to think about memories of his mom. Seven years. “One time, Dad-” he glances up before looking back down at his Mom, “the Sheriff had a late shift, and mom, she helped me build this tent fort in the living room, and told me about their first date. He took her to this little dumpling place and they saw these big seals in the bay, and Dad let her throw their leftovers at them. Mom said one of the big seals roared really loud at them when they ran out. She always seemed so happy when she told me about them. Mom tried, but I thought I ruined it when I came along. Neither of them were ever happy around me.”</p><p>Deucalion leans over the table, and grabs Stiles’ hand. The wolf has fresh tear tracks on his cheeks. He squeezes Stiles’ hand, “My first date with Marie – we went to this little Dim Sum place in Chinatown.” Deuc wipes his cheeks and chuckles, “They ended up catering our wedding. We walked down Fisherman’s Wharf. She wanted to see Alkatrez, but the ferries weren’t running. A bunch of seals were sunning on the docks. I had to flash my eyes to get that bull to calm down.” Deuc clears his throat, “Marie, your mom, she thought for sure it would chase us.”</p><p>He stays silent as minutes pass by staring at his mom’s face. Stiles still doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know where to look, what to do. His insides churn. Eighteen years. The teen tries to imagine being with Deuc and his mom together. How they would have been happy together, not broken pieces trying to fit together in a semblance of a whole thing.</p><p>He looks to Peter and whispers, “I don’t feel good.” He stands from the table and bolts for the bathroom. Bile and acid hit the toilet bowl.</p><p>-</p><p>Deucalion moves to stand when Stiles rushes away, but Peter gives him a look and Ennis keeps a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Give the kid some time,” Ennis murmurs to him. “You just changed everything he thought he knew.”</p><p>The alpha puts his head in his hands as Peter goes to follow his son. Sadness and regret perfumes the air in Stiles’ departure. Deucalion hangs onto that as painful as it is – it’s not disbelief. He feels his own fury envelope him at so many firsts stolen from him. He doesn’t know how this happened, but they stole from him. </p><p>His son. His mate. Their joy. </p><p>He hears Stiles begin to cry in the bathroom as Peter cleans him up, muttering comforting nonsense. His control snaps, eyes glowing red. </p><p>Deucalion turns to Talia with more teeth in his mouth than should be possible, “Alpha Hale, I need your woods.”</p><p>Talia doesn’t even twitch at the declaration, “You have them for as long as you need.”</p><p>He doesn’t wait for anything else, slamming from the kitchen. Clothes tear from his body as he transforms. Deucalion doesn’t have the patience to remove them. He can still vaguely smell the scent of his son lingering in the yard. </p><p>The blond wolf releases a long mournful howl onto the breeze before sprinting into the woods. Deuc doesn’t want his son to see him with so much control-breaking rage pulsing below his skin. He doesn’t want Stiles to fear him. </p><p>Deep into the woods, Kali and Ennis catch up to him. He’s slowed to a walk, trudging to a stop as they rub themselves against him in comfort. </p><p>He’s not ready to go back for hours. </p><p>-</p><p>Peter hears Deucalion leave. Stiles stiffens when he hears the howl of the other Alpha. The cry breaks through his tears and panic. It’s a sad sound. Even Stiles as a human can hear it. </p><p>He brushes his teeth, and Peter leads him back to the couches in the living room. The wolf tucks him into a bunch of blankets and sits next Stiles. His mate squirms until his head is on his wolf’s thigh. </p><p>“I don’t understand,” Stiles whispers after they’ve been settled for awhile. Peter runs his hand through Stiles hair and thinks through the situation.</p><p>“I don’t think anyone does Sweetheart,” he responds. It’s quiet after. </p><p>Talia eventually comes into the living room with Pop, Nan, and Laura following. They stay quiet as each person rubs a hand through Stiles’ and Peter’s hair. Nan takes it a step further and kisses their cheeks. </p><p>“Everything is going to be okay dear,” she whispers in Peter’s ear before finding a spot on the couch. The room goes quiet. After a long night, the group falls asleep safe with one another. </p><p>Peter can’t. He keeps watch. These people are his.</p><p>-</p><p>Stiles wakes to a room full of sleepy sounds and Peter still petting a hand through is hair. He glances up at the wolf. Peter holds a finger to his lips and nods towards the back porch. Stiles nods and Peter pushes him to sit up. Stiles tries to smile at the bit of goofiness. He’s having a hard time.</p><p>They sit on the back steps of the big porch with the sun high in the sky. It’s hard to believe that it’s just barely the afternoon, that his life could change again in less than a day.</p><p>“Did you sleep at all?” Stiles asks gently. Peter puts his arm around his mate’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head. </p><p>“I need to protect the pack darling,” he whispers, nuzzling the crown of Stiles’ head. Peter feels his mate shiver, draws him closer. “It’s going to be okay,” the wolf whispers. </p><p>Stiles nods against Peter’s chest. The warblers sing in the tree branches, and he takes in the day. The sun creates speckles on the ground through the leaves. The morning hurt; it still hurts. He’s not sure it will go away. </p><p>Stiles sniffles into Peter’s chest. “I’m tired of crying,” he mumbles. His wolf hums, pulling him into a full hug. They stay that way for a while. </p><p>Peter perks up eventually, hearing Deuc, Kali and Ennis approach in their forms. The blonde wolf breaks through the trees at a slow gate with a deep brown wolf and another red wolf behind. </p><p>The blonde doesn’t stop on being sighted. Stiles watches him jump onto the porch and approach, tail and ears drooping. The massive wolf lays his head on Stiles’ lap and whines, rubbing his chin on the teen’s leg. “Deuc?” Stiles whispers. The wolf butts his head against Stiles’ chest in response, and then lays back down. </p><p>Stiles pets Deuc’s head, rubbing the fur between the great wolf’s eyes, down his head and across his back. The wolf closes his eyes at the feeling. The teen smells so sad. </p><p>Talia quietly opens the door for the other two and suddenly Stiles, Peter and Deuc are alone. Stiles doesn’t know what to say, so he continues petting the giant wolf in the quiet afternoon with Peter beside him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was a hard one to write. It took a few tries, but I'm not super happy with it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles’ shivers eventually become something that Peter can’t ignore anymore. Peter lifts him to his feet, dislodging Deuc who gives a huff of indignation. The sound makes Stiles smile a little. He uses a hand on Peter’s arm and between the blond wolf’s shoulders to stay steady. He feels shaky in a way that he hasn’t in awhile. </p><p>“Darling, let’s get you something to eat, maybe some tea to knock away the cold,” Peter says, leading him through the door and into the kitchen. Ennis and Kali are already at the table whispering with Talia, Andrew and Peter’s parents. Kali nudges the wolf to the living room telling him about the clothes she left for him. </p><p>Like his first day with the Hales, Andrew makes him a cup of tea with real honey. Too much honey. Is he in shock? Stiles doesn’t know, but the warmth feels good in his hands and trickling down his throat. The scent of sweet lemons fills the room. Peter comes back with oatmeal for the three of them as Deuc returns with a blanket over his arm. Peter nods at the other wolf, and Deucalion wraps it around Stiles. </p><p>“You both going to gang up on me now?” Stiles manages to stutter out with a wobbly little smile. </p><p>As if to prove his point, Peter hands him a bowl with an “eat your oatmeal darling.”</p><p>The table goes quiet as everyone settles. It’s not as uncomfortable as Stiles expected.</p><p>Stiles leans back with a little hum, pulling the blanket tighter around him when he’s finished. Deucalion smiles a little at the scent of contentment that wraps around Stiles now, his son. He can see more of himself in his kid the more he looks. The high cheek bones and long slender fingers all speak of his family. Deucalion is glad to see so much of his Marie though. He should have known when he saw Stiles that first time. </p><p>The teen’s eyes are so much like Marie’s. Along with his paleness and freckles, there’s no doubt of his mother. Even his scent gives whispers of his mother. That hint of lightning and spring peonies is something he could never forget. </p><p>He doesn’t remember the floral scent from meeting Stiles before, and he would have. Every time he gets a hint of peonies on the breeze, it brings him back to those five amazing years with her. It’s not something he can ignore. His wolf will not allow him to forget.</p><p>Deucalion forces his eyes from Stiles cuddling with his mate, and turns to Talia. “When did his scent begin changing?” he asks the Alpha. </p><p>She frowns thinking, but it’s Andrew who answers. “I noticed it a few weeks ago, about a week before his birthday. That underlying floral smell, yes?” the beta asks. </p><p>Deuc nods at the other wolf, still thinking, “scents shouldn’t change like that.”</p><p>“What’s it mean?” Stiles murmurs cocooned against Peter, and more tightly tucked into the blanket. Deuc smiles at the scene. His shivering stopped.</p><p>“It means that the Sheriff and whoever else knew what they were doing, that they hid you from me.” Deuc’s eyes flash red in rage, but at the sight of his son, he can let it go this time. He’s safe. </p><p>He’s safe, and Deuc will make sure he stays that way.</p><p>-</p><p>Kali leaves the Hales on a mission. She has Deaton’s file of Marie with her – Deucalion cannot trust himself to lose control again if he reads the thing. Kali understands. If it were Ennis, she’d raise hell. She has a feeling that the only reason Deuc hasn’t is because he’s been without Marie for 18 years, and if he went on a rampage for revenge, he’d likely never see his son again. </p><p>As it stands, he’s keeping admirable control now. She leaves Ennis with him to make sure though. Not that Talia would do anything to their Alpha, but it makes her feel better to have pack present with him. </p><p>She returns to Deaton’s office. It’s still taped up as a crime scene. </p><p>Kali sits in the office’s waiting room. Brightly colored toys are strewn around and she shivers, imagining just how much access to children Deaton had – if any others were treated like Stiles and Isaac, who is still in the hospital. </p><p>She tries to focus on Marie’s file. It helps that he calls her something else, and her picture is no longer clipped to the file. It’s strange. This file had the only photograph of Marie that they’ve seen so far. That more than anything tells her the negative intent behind Deaton and the Sheriff’s actions. Kali still has no idea how Lahey fits in beyond hiding Isaac’s abuse or whether he does at all.</p><p>They all have something to hide. </p><p>Deaton’s file on Marie is just as clinical as Stile’s. She breathes a sigh of relief at first when it appears as if she didn’t have the exact same burning “treatments” as Stiles endured. Instead, Deaton talks about the different properties of stone and reactions of metal against her skin as if she is some kind of twisted experiment to him. </p><p>There are no more photographs of Marie’s face, but the file contains pictures of indentations on her wrists, black bruises where different stones were pressed so tightly that Kali can see how the stones are cut. It’s horrific in a different way. </p><p>The file is thick, outlining 11 years of these experiments. As time goes on, Marie’s skin appears more and more brittle – parchment like. The man seems fascinated by her drop in weight and temperature as her captivity goes on. </p><p>He rates the “output” of each material as he tests. Kali doesn’t know what he refers to by output, but she starts hedging a guess. The final year, Deaton settles on iron as the optimal material. He wraps bands around her ankles and wrists, makes note of Marie’s lack of energy as the iron experiment continues. The last record is March 2013. Deaton notes her listlessness, how she barely twitches when he swaps the irons. He rates the set as “higher output than normal.”</p><p>Stiles would have been 10 at that time. They have a clearer timeline of her death now. That has to be something, right? Kali wipes her cheeks and stares at the toys scattered around her. </p><p>It doesn’t feel like a victory. </p><p>She has to pull herself together again. She’s here for a reason. Her initial search does not turn up much more than it did the first time. She continues pacing Deaton’s office until she feels it. There’s a slight dip under a piece of the rug behind his desk. His chair was in the way the first time. She didn’t notice before.</p><p>Kali frowns, bouncing on the balls of her feet. There’s just a little bit of give, barely noticeable. She frowns, whipping the large rug off the floor. There’s a square cut into the floor with a small grip to pull up.</p><p>Her frown deepens. None of the blueprints mentioned a basement.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>a little fluff, a little bit of fucked up, and a little cliff. </p><p>A little bit of everything.</p><p>Also, 20k hits! Holy Guacamole Batman!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She calls Rafe for backup. Kali wants to maintain the scene and can’t do it without a partner. He’s there in less than five minutes, likely breaking every traffic law the county has. The agent doesn’t mention it, just moves to follow her as she goes back inside. </p><p>In no time they make it back to the office, and McCall frowns at the door in the floor. “You ready for this?” he asks. The man doesn’t wait for a response, just draws his gun to head down, flashlight held steady. The door opens on silent hinges.</p><p>He shouldn’t have bothered. </p><p>Lights automatically turn on as the door opens fully, leaving everything bright white. She draws her gun, but has a feeling she won’t need it. The air is stale and dry, but strangely dustless. </p><p>The room as they walk down the stairs is sterile like the inside of a lab. Glass cases line the walls. Bits of metal and stone are displayed like artifacts in a museum. Kali shivers. She recognizes some from Marie’s file. </p><p>Kali doesn’t have time to stop, but follows McCall through fifty feet of hallway  to clear the area. She doesn’t hear anything, but doesn’t feel confident in her ears anymore. The more she sees, the more she believes.</p><p>Darach. She’s almost certain of it. That still wouldn’t explain the Sheriff’s involvement in all of this. </p><p>They get through the hall quickly. There’s a white door at the end that matches the rest of the place. The whole thing feels like it’s straight out of a movie. The locked door at the end of the call has a thumb scanner in the wall next to it. Rafe tries to kick it down a few times, but it doesn’t budge. </p><p>“Move” she whispers, “I’m going to shoot the lock.” He nods, and backs into a corner of the wall. It takes two shots to get the door loose. Kali pushes it aside easily. That’s when she hears it.</p><p>Staccato heart beats fill the space. The same sterile white lights flicker on. The scene that greets them is grotesque in its sterility. Four cages made of thick clear plastic fill one side of the room with holes drilled in for air exchange. Each cell contains a bare cot and a metal sink. A system of tubes hang at the head of each bed. </p><p>The other side holds grow lights with two tree saplings growing in massive pots. Plastic tubing runs from the human cages to the saplings.</p><p>Definitely Darach. </p><p>Next to her, McCall holsters his weapon and cries “Melissa! Scott!” A gaunt, dark haired woman looks up with haunted eyes at the sound while the young man in the cell beside her looks up as well. Both stare at Rafe in disbelief.</p><p>“Rafe? Oh my God Rafe?” the woman shouts into the space. She stands on shaky legs and reaches through air holes in the plastic to try and touch her husband. Melissa lets out deep, painful sobs as he touches the fingers of his wife for the first time in 7 years. </p><p>“We’re going to get you out of here. Fuck, Melissa, Scott I swear to god I never stopped looking. Where’s the lock? Scott, oh my God, Scott you’re alive!” Rafe touches his son’s fingers through the air holes as well. </p><p>Kali turns her attention to the other two. Both males. She doesn’t let the disappointment distract her from speaking to the two, “We’re going to get you out of here.” She says to both. They look like they’re in much better shape than Melissa and Scott. </p><p>The brunette nods through the glass, “Door switch is in the corner near the trees. I think the code’s 3-6-9.”</p><p>Kali nods and heads towards the area, punching in the code. She hears Melissa and Scott cry with relief before she even turns around. </p><p>-</p><p>The last ambulance leaves, and Kali is left sitting in the waiting room of the practice surrounded by children’s toys waiting for a CSI crew to get in to catalogue evidence in a secret basement that held an 11 year old and his mom for 7 years.</p><p>It doesn’t feel real.</p><p>Rafe left with his family. She doesn’t blame him.</p><p>She held out hope that the DNA was wrong, that Marie was hidden away somewhere. Today she knows her friend is gone. Has been gone. Deep down she knew, but now she believes the feeling. Hope's foolish for people like her. </p><p>Marie is gone. All that’s left are some bones, and implements used for torture hung like trophies in a display case.</p><p>Alone in the waiting room of a Darach’s office, she lets go and cries for the first time in years. </p><p>-</p><p>Rafe sits in the ambulance with Melissa. She looks worse off than Scott. His son actually pushed him towards her when he paused to try and choose. They’ve been there all along. Right under his nose. </p><p>God, he thought he knew this town.</p><p>Rafe holds Melissa’s frail hand carefully and strokes her hair from her face. Her eyes are closed, and tears run down her cheeks. Melissa is so pale and thin. He continues whispering endearments and apologies on the way to the hospital. </p><p>He would make this right. He needed to make it okay again.</p><p>Seven years.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I shamelessly (or shamefully) stole the cages from mia6363's master work "Under the Songbird's Wing" https://archiveofourown.org/works/11509980/chapters/25828152. You should read it.</p><p>It's a shorter chapter, but I didn't want you all sitting too long. </p><p>Another rec:</p><p>Anam Cara: Home by ItsMe_basil - https://archiveofourown.org/works/29735040/chapters/73134447 if you haven't started on it yet, why not? Treat yo' self. You should really read all their works. Still anxiously awaiting the next chapter of Ruthless. </p><p>What are you reading? Any good recs?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Deucalion, Peter, and Stiles meet Kali at the hospital the next morning. The two older men try to leave Stiles at home, but when the teen realizes that Scott had been missing all this time and that he had been found – well there's no way in hell he’d allow it. </p><p>Stiles has always considered Scott his brother in all but blood. Then he moved away, and Stiles figured he went onto bigger and better things. He never thought to question never hearing from Scott again, especially with the Sheriff rubbing in that he was gone for good. Why would anyone entertain talking to him if they didn’t have to? Just the idea that Scott has been through his own scary ordeal has Stiles feeling a wave of guilt that he can barely stomach. How can he possibly face his brother?</p><p>Peter says Rafe expects him, so he takes a deep breath and knocks on the door frame before stepping inside. Now or never.</p><p>Rafe sits between the two beds. Both Scott and Melissa look so pale surrounded by the white hospital sheets. Scott lays closest to the door with the same crooked jaw and floppy brown hair. When he sees Stiles, he sits up a bit and smiles. “Stiles,” Scott says, “you came! Dad said you would, but I just didn’t believe it.” Stiles shuffles over to the chair. He sits and gently grabs Scott’s hand. </p><p>Stiles smiles a true, large smile for the first time in a long time. He doesn’t mind crying this time – they’re happy tears. </p><p>-</p><p>Deucalion, Kali, and Peter listen closely to Stiles in the McCall room. When the teen settles they look at one another before entering the other room. Kali closes the door behind her.</p><p>The two men look up at their entrance. The first is a brunette who looks to be in his early 20s, though with his baby face Deucalion isn’t too sure of that. According to very basic questioning on the scene, Jordan Parrish came to town just a few months ago to work at the Sheriff’s Office, but even before getting to the precinct, he was abducted by Deaton. Deuc could smell why. The man clearly wasn’t human. He smelled of fire. </p><p>The second captive is someone Deuc would not expect to show up in his area ever. Chris Argent stares back at Deucalion through ice blue eyes. He’d been under Deaton’s control the shortest amount of time, and was taken just a few days before they picked up the good doctor for conspiracy. </p><p>Bad timing, that. </p><p>“Gentleman,” Deuc says walking into the room, “my name is Deucalion Blackwood. I’m leading the prosecution against Deaton, Lahey, and Stiliniski,” here Argent scoffs, “and I’d like to ask you a few questions along with my counterpart DA Hale and Detective Terrell.”</p><p>Parrish nods while Argent growls out, “his name’s not Stilinski.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Kali responds with a raised eyebrow, “What?”</p><p>Deucalion’s eyes flash at Argent. He can’t help it. The Argents have chased his kind for hundreds of years. Deuc crosses his arms and leans against the wall. He can still hear Stiles' heartbeat in the other room. It keeps him from destroying the man for more information. </p><p>Argent stares at him, hasn’t taken his eyes from the alpha since Deuc walked in the room. Argent grimaces, “I’m sure you remember Alexander Argent?” </p><p>Deuc nods, still silent. How could he forget? The man tried to drive him out of his new territory before they’d barely settled. There was no rhyme or reason to his obsession and attack. His old pack in the U.K. had a treaty with the Argents out of France. Deucalion eventually had to conference with the Matriarch who told him that any Argent in California was not there under her orders, and any defense would not meet her ire. </p><p>It took Alexander going after Ennis a month later for Deuc to take action. He didn’t see Argent again after that night.</p><p>Chris Argent seems to understand where Deuc’s mind goes. “The Matriarch recalled the American Argent clan after your call. It took years for her to feel confident in my returning here. My father and sister were apparently practicing even worse tactics then Alexander.” The hunter pauses with a deep frown on his face.</p><p>“I think Alexander's son was afraid of facing a similar judgement. He went completely rogue. I was in Seattle securing a contract back in November, and saw an article about the case. John's photo was on the front page. We all assumed he died. The Family has not heard even a whisper of John since the 80s at least. Now we know why. I came to figure out what the hell was going on, but Deaton found me right as I crossed the county line. No idea how he even knew.” </p><p>“That fucker,” mutters Parrish under his breath. Deucalion finally stops his stare down with Argent to look at the 4th victim. The rest of the room follows his lead. It causes the man to sit up in his hospital bed a little straighter. </p><p>“Look,” Parrish starts, “The sheriff, whoever the hell he is, said he liked my record of service and wanted me for his department. I should have found it weird, but LA was getting a little difficult to deal with and I just wanted to escape. I felt a draw here. I cleared it with my precinct and came to town back in October. Deaton took me the night before I was supposed to start at the station.”</p><p>“Jesus, the thing he made Melissa &amp; the kid do - he had this gross food slurry that he would make us drink from these tubes.” The man pauses and scrubs at his hair, “he made them give blood to those fucking trees or he’d cut off their food. He said that the trees needed to be watered. What kind of sick bastard would do that?”</p><p>Argent spoke up again, “Someone needs to look at Scott’s arms. An eleven year old trying to insert a needle? He’s got scarring all over. Melissa told me she thought he would starve those first few months.”</p><p>Deucalion closes his eyes, “they’re both getting treatment. I’m more worried for Melissa right now to be transparent.”</p><p>Parrish nods and starts laying back in his pillows. He looks exhausted. </p><p>Peter stares at Parrish with narrowed eyes, “You’re a hellhound, aren’t you?” Parrish nods. “Why didn’t you melt everything and get everyone out?”</p><p>Parrish frowns deeply and looks uncomfortable, “I don’t know. I couldn’t, can’t, access it.” At the same time Argent says, “Mountain Ash.”</p><p>“I think there was mountain ash in that slurry. It had a grayish sheen to it,” Argent starts. “I don’t think he was just trying to neutralize Jordan, I think he was trying to figure out how to control him.”</p><p>Parrish nods along, face beginning to droop. </p><p>Deucalion stands from the wall. “I believe you deserve rest after your ordeal. You both will be released from the hospital tomorrow, most likely. Allow me to offer you shelter as you decide what you would like to do next. Because you are part of the case against Deaton and the sheriff now, I do require you stay in town. Kali or Ennis will be here tomorrow on your release. In the meantime, get some rest gentlemen.”</p><p>With that he leaves the room, Kali and Peter following silently.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles sits outside in the hall waiting for them. Deucalion notices his red eyes as the teen fiddles with his fingers in his lap. He smells of subdued hope and guilt. As Kali closes the door, Stiles looks up and Deuc can’t stop himself. He pulls the boy into a hug, and smiles a little as he feels the teen try to figure out where to put his hands even as his heart rabbits at the contact, before settling on patting his back awkwardly. </p><p>Stiles’ pulse slowly calms from the rocket ship it was before, and with it his hands come to rest around his shoulders. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” Stiles murmurs into his shoulder, but the teen doesn’t let go. </p><p>Deuc hugs him tighter in response. It’s the first time he’s ever hugged someone outside of his pack. Does it still count if it’s his own son? He doesn’t know, instead focusing on Stiles’ scent, the feel of his bony ribs under his palms. Stiles still feels cold. Deuc frowns a little and rubs his back, trying to get some warmth into him.</p><p>Kali clears her throat. It makes Stiles step back, forgetting they’re not alone. His son blushes a bit in embarrassment. </p><p>Peter drapes an arm around Stiles, “done with your visit so soon?”</p><p>Stiles nods and mumbles to the floor, “Scott fell asleep, and I didn’t want to bother them.” </p><p>Peter kisses his temple, “why don’t we get out of here?” He says to Stiles and the rest. “Maybe you can visit tomorrow.” Stiles tucks himself closer to the wolf as they leave the hospital.</p><p>Once they get back in the car, Stiles begins anxiously fidgeting in the backseat even as Peter sits next to him. </p><p>“Something happened, didn’t it?” Stiles asks once everyone settles. </p><p>Deuc hums, nods, and turns on the car. The wolf looks at him in the rearview mirror, and Stiles wonders again what life could have been like. “Buckle up pup,” the alpha says, and Stiles rolls his eyes. It’s rather dad-like. The thought makes him smile a little bit. He can’t fall into the void of what could have been. He’d never get out.</p><p>That’s what Peter and Stiles talked about last night, the wolf curled around him like a great wall of muscle. He couldn’t lose the sadness once the other wolf, his dad, left. He knows that everything he’d gone through wouldn’t have happened. </p><p>His mom would still be here. She’d still be smiling at him, giggling with him in their blanket forts where nothing could hurt them. Would she like Peter? He hopes so. </p><p>Stiles knows that it wouldn’t have been all sunshine and happiness, but he would have his mom, and maybe even his dad would love him. He would have met Peter even sooner. Would of known acceptance. </p><p>Now, some of the pieces of that puzzle are missing, edges damaged. He hopes that they can still make a pretty picture one day. He looks at Peter sitting next to him, looking worriedly at him. He smiles at the man. It’s going to be okay. It has to be. </p><p>They’re out of the hospital parking lot when Deuc starts talking, “One of the other captives, Chris Argent, comes from an old hunting family.”</p><p>Stiles frowns, “Hunting, like werewolf hunting?” Peter nods. “That exists? They know you all are sentient right?” His mate grimaces.</p><p>Deucalion tightens his hands on the steering wheel at the question, “Most follow a Code, and as detestable as I find them, hunters can be useful in taking care of the more unsavory creatures that wander between territories.”</p><p>“You said most, what about hunters that don’t have a code? What’s a code?” Stiles asks. </p><p>Deuc smiles, glancing in the rear view mirror, “You’re definitely Marie’s child. A code is a mission. I believe the Argents’ is ‘we hunt those who hunt us.’” </p><p>Stiles huffs. “That’s ridiculous. It could mean anything,” the teen mumbles. Peter chuckles and Kali smirks in the front. </p><p>Deucalion grimaces, “Quite. The Argent Matriarch would disagree, but it does allow for a loose interpretation. The West Coast back in the 90s allowed those disgraces to flourish. They were out of the direct sight of the head of their Family. Kali, Ennis, and I took the Muir territory in 1995. Not even a month later, Alexander Argent came calling. He was well known for violence against anything non-human around here. We had to take care of him – we even had cause from the Matriarch before managing the problem.” </p><p>Deuc tightens his grip even more on the wheel, but doesn’t take his eyes from the road. Special cargo. “Chris Argent identified the sheriff as John Argent, Alexander’s son. I’m sorry Stiles. I should have known better. We were so happy.” </p><p>Deuc pulls over to the median. His forehead touches the steering wheel, and he closes his eyes. “He planned this seven years after. Your mother and I, we did not know she was pregnant.”</p><p>The car is silent. Minutes trickle past as the Alpha gets himself under control again. Stiles swallows heavily. He doesn’t know what to do. It’s not Deuc’s fault.</p><p>“I understand,” the teen whispers into the car, “No one can plan for everything. It’s impossible. All anyone can do is move forward with what we have.” Stiles reaches across the seats, and puts a shaky hand on the Alpha’s shoulder. Deucalion covers his son’s hand with his own, and leans back against the touch. </p><p>“It won’t ever be the same again,” Stiles speaks softly, hopefully, “but we can build something new.”</p><p>-</p><p>Eli and Izzy play out in the yard as they pull into the driveway. Talia sits on the same steps that she contained Deuc on just a few nights ago, reading a book. She waves as they park, and the SUV empties. The twins don’t even think before jumping on Peter. The man laughs, spinning both in dizzying circles. </p><p>The scene makes Stiles smile just a little. </p><p>Deucalion moves to stand beside him. There’s a grin in his voice, “No one believed that he would find his mate, especially Peter himself. He’s a good man. I’m glad he found you that night. I look forward to learning more about you.”</p><p>Stiles nods, eyes drawn down to the ground again. His foot presses on the grass, and watches as it springs back up again.</p><p>The Alpha rubs a hand down his back, and turns to leave.</p><p>“Do you have anymore?” Stiles stutters, voice a little more raised. It makes Peter turn to look, and Stiles blushes, “do you have any more pictures of my mom?”</p><p>Deucalion smiles softly back, “I have plenty of photos. I’d love to tell you about her sometime. Maybe we can do lunch? You can even bring Peter if you want.”</p><p>Stiles smiles and hugs himself, still staring at the ground. He remembers something that Peter said last night. <em>What do you want to happen? It's all up to you.</em> Stiles nods to himself before walking the few steps to his father, and gives the man a hug. He wants to be happy, and everyone around him to be happy too.</p><p>Peter swears that in the moment, nothing shines brighter than Deuc’s smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fluffffffffffffffffffff.</p><p>I needed it after reading Selection Criteria. Damn you Bunnywest!</p><p>Also, new (fantastic chapter) of Together, We Belong!!!!</p><p>[insert person doing a jigg here]</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter does not forget about John Argent, and what the man did to his mate. Everything about this is more complex than he could have ever dreamed. </p><p>The sheriff isn’t Stilinski. They have no idea where the real Stilinski is or if he even existed in the first place.  The head of the ED is a darach. They still haven’t cracked anything else on Lahey. Scott and Melissa McCall are alive, and require more physical, occupational, and psychological therapy than he even wants to imagine. Just that morning, Isaac was released into a relative’s care. That relative is being monitored of course. </p><p>And Deuc found a son he never even knew he lost. </p><p>In the center of it all sits Peter’s mate.</p><p>Peter just wants to kill the three culprits, but he’s afraid they’re missing something. Oh, it’s going to come – just a matter of how and when. </p><p>He knows an alpha that would probably help. </p><p>-</p><p>February rolls in with freezing rain and sleet. It never really snows in Northern California and Peter always thinks this time of year that he’d prefer snow to this garbage. Three trials loom closer, and by the pinched looks on the adults’ faces, everyone knows it. </p><p>Stiles has adjusted to everything as well as anyone could expect in this shit show of a situation. He and Peter turn a first awkward, fumbling lunch with Deucalion into something regular, warm, and weekly. Peter begins to see his mentor in a new light, much closer to a family member than he’s ever been. </p><p>With more distance from the sheriff, Stiles blossoms into even more of his own person. His Mona Lisa smiles bloom into something more real, more often. He takes part in conversations without smelling of so much uncertainy. Sometimes, he even disagrees with others – though often still in a whispery stutter. </p><p>It’s progress all the same.  </p><p>The only thing they still have trouble with is food. Stiles eats, he doesn’t lose any weight, but he doesn’t gain it either. His bones still stand out too sharply to be called healthy, and while Andrew hasn’t talked about it, Peter knows he’s concerned at the lack of progress. </p><p>And just like with everything else, with two steps forward, comes the step back.</p><p>No one realized just how much that step would hurt. </p><p>-</p><p>Stiles wakes frozen to the bone. So cold it hurts. Muscles lock so hard that he groans, feeling the hot wetness seap into the lap of his pajamas and the pungence scents the bed he shares with Peter. Teeth clench hard in his mouth and tremors rock through him. </p><p>Peter wakes at the smell.</p><p>“Stiles?” whispers in his ear. All the teen can do is groan, still feeling his insides clench, trying to keep whatever warmth he can in. Peter wraps an around him, and curses when he feels the hard tightness of Stiles’ body and the wetness. </p><p>Stiles would be mortified, but he can’t think beyond cold, cold, why is he so cold? His words freeze in his throat – stuck like everything else by this lack of warmth. He hears Peter curse again as his hand braces Stiles stomach, trying to flip him over. Locked muscles shiver, making the motion harder.</p><p>Stiles floats away as Peter yells for Andrew. </p><p>-</p><p>Peter wakes to an astringent smell and thinks maybe Stiles had an accident. Things happen.</p><p>His brain moves from slow, sleepy confusion to full operation when he feels the tremors that work through Stiles, how immoveably brittle Stiles feels in his arms. The tendons of his neck and jaw stand in sharp relief as Peter tries to wake him. </p><p>He can’t. </p><p>Peter screams for Andrew at 5:30 in the morning, not caring that he wakes the whole house. </p><p>Footsteps run lightly down the hall, but it’s Talia, not Andrew that rips the door open. Her eyes glow red with snarling question on her lips that immediately dies when she looks at her brother trying to wake his mate. </p><p>Andrew pushes her through the doorway, so that he can get into the room.</p><p>“Peter?” the man asks, “what happened?” His voice is calm, even. In a distant part of Peter’s brain, he knows it’s the physician’s triage voice. </p><p>Peter swallows, eyes bright blue in the dark room. “I don’t know, can’t wake him. He’s freezing.” Andrew moves closer, and Peter has to contain his growl at the man, knowing that he’s just trying to help his mate. </p><p>“Talia,” Andrew says, “Can you go run a bath, but lukewarm. Call Deuc.” Talia immediately moves as he asks.</p><p>Peter looks at the physician as the man tries to straighten Stiles’ fingers. They’re pressed with cutting fingernails in his palms. No luck. The water cuts off, and Peter scoops up the tensely balled figure to bring to the bathroom. Stiles only clenches frozen, shivering with seemingly no conception of what goes on around him.</p><p>He places his mate in the tub, clothes and all. Peter can hear his teeth grind and clench. He doesn’t like this. </p><p>Helplessness is never a good feeling. </p><p>-</p><p>Deuc leaves the house like a bat out of hell after the call from the other Alpha. He knows what magical exhaustion sounds like. He’s seen it, and has felt the terror of watching his mate shake uncontrollably like warmth has been sucked from her marrow. </p><p>He knows that Stiles hasn’t practiced – didn’t even think he was magic. Once they understood his complete parentage, everyone assumed that Stiles was born a rare human. He should have known better by the scars on his back.</p><p>Damnit. </p><p>Deucalion takes a turn even faster. He needs to see a prison about a darach.</p><p>-</p><p>Deaton seems unsurprised to see him. It makes Deuc’s hackles rise. </p><p>“Where is it?” he demands of the monster in front of him. Guards wait outside of the room, but he doesn’t care if they hear. The cameras are off, a tip of the hat from the warden. They think it’s poison.</p><p>In a way it is. </p><p>“Where’s the link you fucker?” he growls, grabbing the collar of Deaton’s prison jacket, and slamming him against the wall. The alpha doesn’t let the man go, even as the dark druid tries to catch his breath, Deucalion slams him into the wall again, “You knew this would happen.” It’s a whisper. Not a question. </p><p>“Did you know that man stole him from me?” It’s a deep growl. “You think I give a shit about decorum right now? There are two ways this will end. You give me the link, or I kill you. Either saves my son.”</p><p>Deuc slams the darach into the wall again and snarls, “Which will it be you fucking monster?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Life is going to get so much better for Stiles after this - promise!</p><p>Bit of a pause between updates. Job interviews are a pain in the gluteus maximus. </p><p>But also, new reqs!<br/>If you need adult Stiles whump - Verdant by MargaretKire is so so damn good: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28017582/chapters/68632644</p><p>Also, Balancing on Breaking Branches - simply phenomenal writing https://archiveofourown.org/works/28744974</p><p>This is just so cute: Whispers and Whimsey - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117933</p><p>If anyone is fans of Kingsman, but you haven't read Your Soulmate Always Arrives Precisely On Time, why haven't you? Quit being mean to yourself https://archiveofourown.org/works/5927119</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles becomes aware in stages. First, a floaty cool feeling. His muscles hurt like he’s just finished scrubbing every bathroom he’s ever stepped in. Even his head radiates pressure. Stiles swallows a moan. </p><p>He hears whispers, far away.</p><p>A hand on his shoulder.</p><p>Pain recedes. Exhaustion intercedes.</p><p>He sinks back down into the fog. </p><p>-</p><p>Deaton pants to catch his breath as his back hits the wall a third time, and Deuc sees it. Others would dismiss it as a silver cap, but he knows better. It has to be iron.</p><p>“Oh you sick son of bitch,” Deuc growls out. He shoves his fingers into the man’s mouth and wrenches his jaw open even further. Three of the darach’s teeth are coated with the metal. Classic rule of three. </p><p>Deaton scrambles to try and remove Deuc’s hands, but he’s a cuffed darach mostly removed from his source against an Alpha in a rage. </p><p>Deaton doesn’t stand a chance.</p><p>Deucalion lengthens his claws, forces the darach’s mouth open even wider, and extracts the links to his son.</p><p>The guards don’t even knock.</p><p>-</p><p>“Pe’er?” Stiles mumbles. A hot body presses against his back with fluffy blankets pulled to his shoulders. He feels so warm, almost hot. </p><p>Is he sick?</p><p>An arm tightens around his hips. “You with me sweetheart?” Peter rumbles behind him. Stiles can feel the sound though his back. </p><p>“m tire,” Stiles mumbles into the bed clothes. </p><p>“I know darling,” Peter whispers in his ear. The wolf’s arm tightens around his stomach. “We found out why you haven’t been feeling well. Sleep baby. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”</p><p>Stiles drifts back down.</p><p>-</p><p>Deucalion leaves the room with three bloody teeth in his pocket. The guards are unsurprised by their prisoner’s clumsiness - he fell into a table, promise. Mouths bleed quite a bit, it turns out. </p><p>The alpha doesn’t mind. He has what he needs. </p><p>He can hear Deaton’s sniveling and tachycardia all the way through security. The wolf loses the sound in the parking lot. It’s a beautiful day outside. Deucalion doesn’t slow to enjoy it. He has more people to destroy, even if it isn’t so physical.</p><p>Deaton won’t make it to trial.</p><p>-</p><p>Stiles wakes a third time and feels the most rested he ever has.</p><p>And warm.</p><p>It’s so strange, not normal. Even his fingers and toes feel like he’s in a hot bath, the temperature warming his extremities. It usually doesn’t last long coming out. Strange.</p><p>A page flips near him, and he turns over, head touching Peter’s hip now.</p><p>The book closes, and Peter’s hand strokes through his hair. Stiles opens his eyes and smiles, stretching his arms.</p><p>“That has to be the best sleep I ever had,” Stiles murmurs, curling around Peter and throwing an arm over his hips. He slides himself closer. </p><p>Peter laughs, “Darling, if you only knew.” More seriously, he continues, “I’m glad that you’re feeling better. You scared me this morning.”</p><p>Stiles frowns, “Don’t remember that at all. You okay?”</p><p>Peter hugs Stiles’s shoulders, “Better than ever. I think you will be too.”</p><p>The teen looks confused, but doesn’t ask.</p><p>-</p><p>Peter watches Stiles skip down the stairs on the way to the kitchen. He has confidence in his steps and body in a way that Peter has never seen him have before. The wolf follows his mate, and hopes that confidence stays. </p><p>He knows that Deucalion waits downstairs to talk through everything. Peter trails behind him to the kitchen, thankful that Deuc not only knew what was going on, but could do something about it. He watches Stiles greet the Alpha, still a little hesitant, and thinks that it will always be too soon to lose Stiles. </p><p>Talia calls Peter over to the stove where there’s enough pancakes to feed an army. It’s a Saturday tradition to have lazy brunches. Of late, parts of Deuc’s pack have shown up to take part as well, though this is the first that the Alpha himself has joined. Peter loads up two plates with pancakes and fruit, definitely more than he’d normally get Stiles. He has a good feeling. </p><p>Peter puts the food down in front of Stiles before sitting across from Deuc. Stiles smiles at him, and it takes his breath away. His mate is extraordinary. </p><p>Peter checks into the conversation as Deuc asks how his mate feels, “I feel great. Like I could run for miles.” Stiles turns to Peter, “Do you think we could go to the lake? I want to walk around, see all of your favorite places.”</p><p>Peter smiles indulgently, “Of course sweetheart. I’d love to.”</p><p>They finish eating, and Peter sees that Stiles eats most of his food before the teen takes their plates to be washed. He returns with fresh tea for everyone, still smiling. The rest of the family has left at this point to give them some privacy. </p><p>Deuc puts a cloth handkerchief on the table when Stiles settles. “I figured out why you’ve been struggling with energy and your weight,” Deuc says looking at the teen. He unfolds the napkin to show three small bits of metal. “I removed these from Deaton this morning. You hit a point where the link Deaton connected to you asked more than you could give.” Stiles’ eyes grew larger at every word. “Now, there is no reason whatsoever to be worried now. It’s over. We believe that it has been inhibiting your progress.”</p><p>Stiles refolds the napkin so that the bits of metal are hidden again. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the doctor. “He was taking my energy with those?” Stiles asks. Peter puts a hand on Stiles’ knee, and Stiles holds his hand instead. The wolf notices just how much warmer he feels than normal. He loves it. He already smells more healthy.</p><p>Deuc hums, “In a way he took your energy. Your mother was a Spark, my Spark. I believe that Deaton and the Sheriff were hiding your gift from you, likely using it for themselves. They were stealing your magic, your Spark.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A few things left:</p><p>- The trial<br/>- Whatever happens to the 3 douche canoes<br/>- Check in with Scott and Melissa<br/>- also Chris and Jordan<br/>- Happiness </p><p>Am I missing anything?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Chapter 28</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Instead of being relieved, Stiles feels more concerned, “What if it happens again? How can I stop it? What if I don’t notice it?”</p><p>Deuc strokes his chin in thought, “Your mother had a lot of contacts in the mage community. It might take me awhile, but I should be able to find someone to help. Maybe you both can come by the house when you’re finished with your lake trip? Marie’s books are still in the pack library. I can pull some for you.”</p><p>Stiles perks up. Deuc’s shared so many adventures with his mom over the last few months, but it clicks suddenly that he inherited more of her than her looks. He has her Spark, something that she played with. Used to help people. </p><p>It’s one more thing that connects them together. </p><p>“Can we go now? I’d love to see her books,” Stiles asks. </p><p>Deucalion hates saying no, but “I am sorry pup, but I have a deposition with Lahey Monday, and a conversation with Isaac scheduled in an hour. I promise this evening is all yours though. I also need you to do something for me.” He pushes the handkerchief towards Peter, “I need you to throw these in the lake. Different locations. The water will nullify and then rust these pieces to dust.”</p><p>Peter straightens his shoulder from the comfortable relaxation he held before. He takes on the persona of the Left Hand protecting a pack member, as well as his mate. Deucalion nods. He appreciates what it means. </p><p>Peter will protect his son as long as there’s life in him to do so. </p><p>The Left Hand takes the cloth and tucks it safely away in a pocket. “Consider it done,” Peter says to the alpha. </p><p>-</p><p>Deucalion sits in the living room of Isaac’s Aunt once removed. Kali sits next to him in an official capacity. Isaac’s Aunt Cindy flits around preparing drinks and looking nervously up the stairs every once in a while. </p><p>Deuc can hear who he assumes is Isaac pacing upstairs. The boy’s nervous. It’s not the first victim of abuse he’s dealt with, it’s likely not to be his last either. </p><p>The aunt hands out glasses of lemonade, “I’m so sorry Mr. Blackwood, Ms. Terrell. Let me go bring Isaac down. I have to admit he’s been dreading this conversation.” </p><p>Deuc smiles, “I completely understand, and it’s okay. We do not want to make him uncomfortable, but I want those responsible to see conviction. And please, call me Deuc.” The woman nods before going up the stairs to find her nephew. </p><p>A minute later, the aunt comes down the stairs. This time she has a shadow. Isaac slouches, taking up much less space than someone his height needs to be comfortable. One hand holds onto his other forearm, and awkwardly scratches at it. He has an old black and white composition notebook clasped in his other hand. </p><p>When the teen sidles into the room, perching on the very edge of a chair across from Deuc and Kali, the teen reaches out and puts the notebook on the coffee table between them. Isaac never looks up; his eyes stay on the tops of his shoes. </p><p>Deuc sees him, and it’s a picture of discomfort in one's own skin. So much of it reminds him of that first time meeting Stiles. He’ll get better. Cindy smiles gently at the teen – at least he has support. </p><p>“I wrote it – everything, I wrote it all down.” The boy plays with his fingers nervously, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Isaac murmurs into the living room.</p><p>Deucalion picks up the book and flips through it briefly. Cramped writing fills all of the pages, front and back. Phrases jump out like “the basement is for punishment” and “don’t burn dinner.” Deuc frowns.</p><p>“Isaac we will read through this, but I will likely have to submit this to evidence. Are you okay with that?” Deucalion asks as gently as he can. Isaac nods, still looking down. “Now, the trial against Mr. Lahey will likely be in 6 weeks or so. There’s absolutely no pressure around what I’m about to ask, and you don’t have to make a decision now, but will you agree to testify?”</p><p>Isaac pauses in his fidgeting, and his shoulders droop even more. A minute ticks by before Isaac breathes out a rough exhale. He glances up briefly at the other two before looking down at his lap again. Isaac nods. </p><p>Yes. </p><p>-</p><p>Peter and Stiles park in their usual spot. The sun sits bright overhead, but it is still a chilly February day. The wolf bundled up his mate as much as he could before letting them leave the house. </p><p>For once, Stiles tugs Peter along to the very furthest stone from the shoreline. Peter allows the tugging bemusedly. It’s like Stiles fits in his own skin for the first time. The change from one day to the next is magnificent.</p><p>Stiles tugs on his hand one more time, “Can you throw one of the pieces out there?”</p><p>Peter doesn’t hesitate, just takes one of the chips of metal and throws it as hard as he can. They can barely see the tiny splash it makes in the water. </p><p>“Two more to go. Where to next?” He asks his spark. </p><p>Stiles thinks for a moment, burrowing into Peter’s side, “You decide. Show me all of your favorite places.”</p><p>Peter smiles. It’s his turn to tug Stiles, “Oh darling, just you wait.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Chapter 29</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lahey is a skinny, sniveling bastard. That’s Deuc’s first impression on entering the interview room of the prison. Richland is also there, seemingly just as greasy as he’s always been. The wolf will not miss their weekly interactions once this thing is over. </p>
<p>The prison has a permanent camera setup for the room. They just need to hit play. </p>
<p>“Mr. Richland, Lahey, are you ready to begin?” Deucalion asks the two others. He’s not ready for anymore of their nonsense, especially after reading through Isaac’s notebook last night. </p>
<p>Richland smirks, the buffoon. There’s no world in which he wins any of these cases. </p>
<p>“Yes, let’s do that,” Richland says, turning on the camera. It points at Lahey like a gun. Deucalion speaks viciously.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Deaton can’t stop shivering. Ever since that wolf stole his power, he’s watched his own skin gray, sagging into wrinkles and guantness. It won’t be long now. He never imagined that this would end in a jail cell. </p>
<p>His plans had justified a far greater end. He cannot stop the tremors in his hands. Just two more months until that child’s birthday. He had only needed two more months. Deaton never expected the hunter to behave so recklessly. To let the child traipse around in the woods. </p>
<p>Disaster. </p>
<p>Deaton wonders what those dogs will do to his babies, if they’re even still alive. So much time cultivating his precious children, finding them the right soil, the right water. The right fertilizer. </p>
<p>It’s his one regret. </p>
<p>Deaton breathes out a heavy sigh. He won’t be able to see them planted alongside their brother tree in the woods. Won’t be able to harness the power to eradicate the dogs from this earth. </p>
<p>Deaton sighs out one last time before his body completely sags into the bed. Three hundred years. Not a bad life. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>It’s Monday afternoon. Classes let out, Stiles makes his way to the parking lot with the twins, Danny, and Cora. A shiver runs up his spine so quickly that he drops his books, and has to lean against Cora’s arm for a moment. </p>
<p>It’s not a bad feeling per se. Moreso that every muscle he has unclenches at the exact same time, and his lungs fully expand. It’s a feeling like nothing can touch him ever again. </p>
<p>Wind ruffles his hair, and he can feel the air around him grow warmer. </p>
<p>Cora’s still frowning at him like there’s something wrong. Stiles knows that someone’s texting Peter, likely Deucalion as well. The twins also look over in concern, but it’s Danny that asks, “You okay, man?”</p>
<p>Aiden scoops up his books. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Stiles says, bumping shoulders with Cora. He gives her arm a small squeeze in thanks before letting go. “Actually, I’ve never felt better."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>just  a little something. Expect the trial this weekend.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Chapter 30</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>trigger: talk of past suicidal ideation. talk of past abuse in detail.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It's going to be okay,” Deucalion says, grasping Stiles’ shoulders in a gentle squeeze, and looking into his eyes. “This trial is merely a formality at this point. You do not even have to do this. You’re sure?” Stiles nods. Deucalion gives him a brief hug before stepping away completely.</p><p>They’re in a side hall of the Beacon County Courthouse. Peter squeezes his hand before also letting him go. They don’t want any stray pictures showing just how comfortable they all are getting out. Stiles understands, even as he watches the two wolves leave.</p><p>Stiles leans into Andrew, and let’s him wrap a fatherly arm around his shoulders, and squeeze him into a longer hug. </p><p>“Stiles?” Talia asks, “are you sure you want to do this?”</p><p>Stiles pulls away from Andrew, and nods, making sure to take deep breaths. </p><p>“Yeah,” Stiles responds, looking up, “I want Argent to rot.”</p><p>Andrew and Talia take that as their que. Each chooses a shoulder to stand at, and Andrew guides him to the large doors of the courtroom. The press are cordoned off, but that doesn’t stop questions being shouted or cameras being pointed in their directions. </p><p>Stiles keeps his head down.</p><p>It doesn’t take long for the door to open from the inside of the room. Talia and Andrew do not follow him. He walks into the quiet court, keeping his eyes on his toes. The low gate opens for him. There’s a loud cough in the silent chamber. </p><p>The sound makes Stiles look up. He freezes. Sees his da- the sheriff for the first time in almost five months. Stiles thought he prepared for this, but in the face of his da- the sheriff’s clear rage, it’s hard to remember he’s safe. The anger still carries across his brow with a severe, turned down lips. He can’t look away. He’s the deer while headlights get even closer. </p><p>“Stiles?” It’s Deuc. And just like that, a hand comes to his shoulder, and allows him to look away. Deuc looks at him patiently, “Are you ready?” </p><p>He nods, and the court officer leads him the rest of the way to the stand. The judge stares down at him while swearing him in. It’s strange, he thinks, that he could live in one place his entire life and still know nearly no one. </p><p>It’s a world of strangers, but then he sits and can see Peter. He sits with Nan and Pop. Peter smiles. It feels like good luck. He has people. He has pack.</p><p>Deucalion stands as the court officer settles, and so it begins. </p><p>“Thank you for appearing today,” Deuc begins, “can you tell us your name and relationship to the defendant?”</p><p>“Stiles, um Mieczysław Stilinski,” he takes a sip of water and whispers, “he’s my dad.” He focuses on Deuc. Just Deuc. They’re just having a conversation. It’s fine.</p><p>“And can you tell us how you found yourself in the care of the Hales on November 5th, 2020?” Deucalion asks. </p><p>None of this is a surprise. He knows the questions. Stiles would take comfort, but so many eyes look on.</p><p>“I, um needed air, and there’s this, I have this spot I go to after we fight, and I just needed air. So, so when dad went to his shift, I left. Peter found me.” He murmurs into his knees. </p><p>Deuc maintains his neutral expression, and it’s all Stiles can focus on, “What were you doing when Peter found you?”</p><p>“Objection! What’s the relevance? The kid went for a walk. Who cares your honor?” That’s Richlan, but Stiles doesn’t look. Doesn’t want to see him in this moment.</p><p>Deucalion replies smoothly, expectantly, “It gives a picture of their relationship your honor.”</p><p>The judge looks to Stiles, “proceed Mr. Stilinshki.”</p><p>“There’s this cliff. I was, I was sitting and-and thinking about how-how long it would take for someone to find my body, but but Peter found me instead, and I-I passed, I fainted.” Stiles can’t look at Deuc in that moment. He focuses on the water glass sitting on the rail instead. No one shifts. No one breathes. </p><p>“Why were you thinking about that Stiles?” It feels almost like a whisper, but it carries and it hurts so much at the same time. </p><p>Stiles exhales and blinks trails of tears down his cheeks. He scrubs his face viciously with a hand. “I embarrassed him a lot. Couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything right, and it hurt, hurt so much to be corrected. Just figured, maybe the next election would be easier if Dad got the pity vote again. I just, it hurt so much. I was so tired. And I- I couldn’t do it anymore.”</p><p>Deucalion brings him a box of tissues, and the whole thing just feels so surreal. Stiles bunches one up in his hand. “What was the fight about that night?” Deuc asks in that same voice.</p><p>“I’m, I am supposed to have dinner ready before his shift starts, but but I had to, he wanted me to come home right after school because I had to- I messed up. The day before I got sick at school and had to go home early. Dad, he didn’t like that. But- but he didn’t have time to correct it the day before and I ran out of stuff to make for dinner but he wanted me to come home to get corrected so I didn’t have time to go to the store and get groceries so I didn’t, I didn’t have dinner ready and I didn’t tell him till after I got corrected, but Dr. Deaton took the thing already. It was already gone! So he couldn’t fix me again. I messed up, and I was really sorry, but I still needed to be corrected so he had to figure out something else.” </p><p>Stiles has to pause to breathe. He grasps the water glass and watches it slosh around as he tries to hold it steady in his hand. He manages to take a sip without spilling any. </p><p>The judge looks at Stiles, “Breathe son,” and Stiles understands why things feel so shaky. He closes his eyes and counts seconds. </p><p>Deucalion walks closer, and it helps Stiles focus. </p><p>“Stiles, do you need a break?” Deuc asks. He can tell the wolf means it, but Stiles shakes his head. He just wants this to be over. </p><p>“Stiles, what did he do that night?”</p><p>“He, upstairs he keeps this ring, it’s a big ring, you know from the high school? Keeps it on his dresser upstairs because he can’t wear it on the job, too big. He told me to go get it. I, I was supposed to st-stand a-and let let, let him hit me with it on, but but I messed, I embarrassed him again, and moved out of-of the way. ” Stiles tries to remember to breathe again. Light shines off the half-empty water glass. </p><p>“I was supposed- I was supposed to take it like a man! He said, but I was scared. So I moved and I knocked over his whiskey and it broke everywhere. I fell and-and he threw a piece of the bottle at me and he, he punched me any-anyway. I just, I laid there. But-but he had to leave for work, so he said, it would do for now, and he left.” Stiles takes another tissue from the box, and begins to tear it to pieces. He needs to move, do something with his hands. </p><p>“I don’t, I don’t know how long I laid there, but the smell. It started getting to me, so I was going to go for a walk, get some-some air, and then clean it up before I got back. I just needed to go.” Stiles says. He looks up from his lap, and Deuc looks so sad. It makes him feel even worse.</p><p>Stiles slumps even further into the chair. </p><p>Deuc submits photos, the pictures Andrew took into evidence. He hears gasps from a few of the jurors, but he keeps his head down. Doesn’t want to see. </p><p>“Stiles,” Deuc asks after a few minutes, “How did the sheriff usually ‘correct’ you?”</p><p>Stiles crosses his arms, and tries to shrink even more into the chair, “There’s this thing. It-it’s metal and about the s-size my h-hand. If I, if I do something wrong, he gets it hot, really h-hot on the stove t-until it’s r-red. I have to t-take off m-my shirt and lay on the fl-floor. I count, I count to 15 then he takes it off- he takes it off.” Stiles puts his chin to his chest, and tightens his crossed arms. Knowing the questions, and saying the answers feels different. It hurts all over again. </p><p>Stiles remembers to keep breathing as more pictures are presented to the jury, and he waits, and he breathes and he waits and he breathes. </p><p>The court settles again, and Deuc continues, “Why did you have to lay on the floor?” </p><p>Stiles closes his eyes, blinks, before focusing on the bits of shredded tissue in his lap, “Easier to press down, more pressure. I can’t move good after, some-sometimes I, I’d wake up in the morning on the floor, and not, I wouldn’t remember sleeping. You know?”</p><p>Deucalion frowns, “I can’t say that I do understand. I’m so sorry you had to go through that Stiles. Just a few more questions please. Was your father always the person who did this? No one else?”</p><p>Stiles nods, “Yeah, yes. Always, but Dr. Deaton, he was usually there too. At first, I just thought that d-dad wanted to make sure med-medical stuff wasn’t needed, but but he never helped after. No one ever helped.”</p><p>Deucalion let’s that hang in the air for a moment before continuing, “How often would these ‘corrections’ typically happen?”</p><p>Stiles shrugs, “Sometimes, sometimes it’d be the same week, sometimes I, I could do really good for a month. I just had to try harder.”</p><p>“And when did it start?” he asks.</p><p>“After Mom. I was, I was 10? He just won re-election and I couldn't mess up. He said I needed to keep Beacon Hills safe by letting him do his job. He had to fix me."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>part 1 of trial</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Chapter 31</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Deucalion is almost finished with Stiles’ testimony. They’ve talked about his mother, Deaton’s role, all of it. Stiles feels wrung out.</p><p>“Stiles, thank you so much for appearing today. I know this has been very difficult, but if we could end on a high note?” Deucalion asks. Stiles tries to smile, but it feels awkward and shaky. He nods anyway.</p><p>“What was it like, moving from living with Mr. Stilinski to the Hales?” </p><p>Stiles genuinely smiles at this, though it’s not something that Deuc gave as a question in advance. He feels his entire body relax, unscrunching from his chair. “Living with the Hales. With my da-the Sheriff, I didn’t know that I was suffocating. Like, I knew I wasn’t happy, I was tired and hurt all the time but it felt normal? I didn’t know there was another way. I didn’t know anyone could or-or even would do anything about it. I just assumed my dad, the sheriff, he was right because no one would ever do anything. They’d just look at me and then be disappointed. But Peter and Talia, they believed me, and they helped me. I just, I didn’t know that was allowed. I thought I only had two options.” </p><p>Stiles swallows, wipes his eyes, “I thought either my dad would kill me or I could kill myself. I just, living with them, they taught me how to breathe again.”</p><p>Deucalion smiles at him and nods. He turns to the judge, “No further questions your honor.”</p><p>-</p><p>They take a short recess. Stiles sips water in a room off of the judge’s chambers. Janice sits with him for company, but recognizes he doesn’t want to talk much. She gives him a crossword puzzle instead. Something to do to take his mind off things. </p><p>Stiles clears his throat, and she looks up from her own crossword, “I- thanks. I couldn’t have done this without you.”</p><p>Janice smiles, and Stiles hugs her. The court officer interrupts them shortly after to begin cross examination. </p><p>Before she lets him go, she whispers, “You’re going to do great. We are all so, so proud of you.” Stiles holds onto that.</p><p>-</p><p>Mr. Richlan hasn’t changed much since his deposition. He’s still the same greasy man that he was before. He makes sure to face away from the sheriff.</p><p>“Mr. Stilinshi,” the man smirks, “You said no one would help you, but did you ever tell someone? Tell an adult? Why would they ignore you? Were you truly trying your best to let someone know? If so, how could any adult ignore you? Unless you were lying about your injuries perhaps? Lying now maybe?Why didn’t you ever run away–”</p><p>“Mr. Richlan,” the judge warns, “Badgering will not be tolerated.”</p><p>The man smirks at the judge, but raises his eyebrow at Stiles. He turns towards the jury, but keeps talking to Stiles. The teen can feel his heart in his throat, and clenches his hands in his lap. </p><p>“Why didn’t you tell an adult Mr. Stilinski? Most people would hear a story like that and jump to help, so why didn’t you?” Here he turns back to Stiles, glancing at the tremors in Stiles’ hands. “You didn’t did you–”</p><p>“Objection!” Deucalion shouts, standing. “The victim is not the one on trial here! The victim, who might I add, was as young as 11 when this started.”</p><p>“Sustained.” The judge responds. He looks at Stiles, “Mr. Stilinski, the question is appropriate, but the delivery,” he glances at Richlan, “has much to be desired. Richlan, you are already on thin ice. Mr. Stilinski, did you tell an adult about your situation at home?”</p><p>Stiles folds more deeply into the chair, but nods. He wets his lips, “I, after my Mom, the first time it happened was a few months after my Mom. I told my teacher, and I think she believed me? But I still had to go home. Dad, he made me stay home the rest of the week. He was so mad – locked me in my room. When I got back to school the next week, everyone said she moved, but I was scared, so I didn’t say anything again.”</p><p>The judge nods, but Richlan snorts, “So you were grounded for lying and you freaked out because your teacher moved? Seems pretty far fetched to me.” He looks to the jury and rolls his eyes. None of the juniors look comfortable at the behavior. </p><p>Stiles doesn’t notice. Just shrugs and looks down. “It’s the truth,” he mumbles into his knees. </p><p>“So what about everyone else? Your new teachers? Bus drivers? Hell, you’re such a spazz, surely one of the staff in the Emergency Department would see something?” The man sarcastically asks Stiles. The sheriff coughs again at the end of the question. Stiles scrunches down even further, pushing his hands between his legs to hide the shaking. He can’t hurt him. It’s over. It’s over.</p><p>“Your Honor!” Deuc cries out with rage. It snaps Stiles back to the present. Someone believes him. It will be okay.</p><p>“Mr. Richlan,” the judge remands, “One more time and I will hold you and your client in contempt. You can have one more question for Mr. Stilinski before this testimony is over. Do you understand me?”</p><p>“Judge! This is just ridiculous!” shouts the Sheriff, standing at the defendant’s table. He kicks his chair away causing a large crash. Stiles can’t help curling into a smaller target.“This whole thing is a farce! I have served this community for almost 20 years. How dare you! Believing some child over me! I am the Sheriff of this county! I protect this area from these monsters!”</p><p>“Silence!” The judge shouts, knocking the gavel and standing at the bench. He presses his closed fists on the rail of the bench, looking down at the Sheriff, “Bailiff, please remand Mr. Stilinski to custody - immediately! I will not have you bully a witness in my court. Richlan, this questioning is <b>over</b>. We are in recess until tomorrow morning.” The bailiff cuffs the sheriff who still shouts obscenities as he’s marched out of the room. </p><p>With one more bang of the gavel, the day is over. </p><p>Stiles does not understand what just happened. </p><p>-</p><p>The bailiff leads him to the same side hall from before. The man stays with him until Peter finds him a few minutes later. The court officer nods to both before going back into the courtroom. </p><p>Stiles throws himself at the wolf as soon as they’re alone. </p><p>Peter closes his eyes and savors having his mate in his arms. There was a moment where he thought he’d lose control. It took his mom to bring him back to focus. </p><p>“You did so well sweetheart,” Peter whispers into Stiles’ ear. He gives one last squeeze before letting go, but keeps an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, we’re going to sneak out a different way. The family’s meeting us at home.”</p><p>Stiles can’t talk yet, collecting his thoughts. They’re lucky and don’t run into anyone before getting in Peter’s car. </p><p>He doesn't hesitate to grasp Peter’s hand on the console. Peter holds it gently, even as they pull into traffic. </p><p>Stiles swallows, “Is it over now? Do I have to go on the stand again? I don’t understand.”</p><p>Peter runs his thumb against Stiles knuckles and glances over before putting his eyes back on the road. </p><p>“It’s over,” the wolf responds, “You’re testimony is over. Richlan and Argent screwed up in pressing so hard. Richlan was warned after that stunt at your deposition. Judge Parker has zero tolerance. Deuc recorded everything and presented it to Parker before you got on the stand, just in case.”</p><p>Peter pulls over before going down the long driveway to the house. He turns to Stiles and clasps Stiles hand in both of his, “Darling, you did absolutely perfectly. Nothing, and I truly mean nothing that Richlan said about how you behaved was accurate. No one believes the story he tried to spin. You were in the right Sweetheart. You did everything you possibly could. Do you understand?”</p><p>Stiles nods, and Peter wipes a stray tear from his cheek. </p><p>“Now,” Peter says, looking into Stiles’ eyes, thumb still rubbing his cheek, “Mom has a feast planned for you, but we can just as easily get lost for awhile. No one will be upset. It’s up to you.”</p><p>Stiles smiles. He has an opinion. </p><p>“Let’s go home.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The end is near, we're just not quite there yet!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Chapter 32</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He pled out,” is what Deuc greets him with in the office the next day. </p><p>Peter stares at him flummoxed, “Are you fucking kidding me Deuc? Argent’s on the ropes and you accept a fucking deal?”</p><p>Deuc rolls his eyes as if Peter’s the one being an idiot, “Not Argent, Lahey. He apparently heard just how well the trial for Argent is going, and wanted to plea out before getting brought into the melee.”</p><p>Peter takes a breath. Still not what he was expecting, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing. “What was the charge agreement?</p><p>“Child abuse, endangerment, and conspiracy to commit a felony. Fifteen years, no parole, and a $70,000 fine in trust to Isaac,” Deuc responds, smirking. </p><p>“Fuck Deuc” is the only thing Peter can come up with. “This Richlan fellow is awful isn’t he? Have you found anything funky about the Laheys? They seem like such an oddity compared to the rest. I didn’t sense any supernatural element with either of them.”</p><p>Deuc shakes his head, “In all honesty, that’s why I took the deal. Lahey is only a human monster. At least this way, Isaac can have undergrad taken care of. It’s not something I could guarantee at trial.”</p><p>Peter nods, but something still doesn’t feel right. He lets out a gusty sigh and paces the conference room. Deuc leans against the wall, and crosses his arms across his chest. He knows the wolf well enough to realize Peter’s trying to get his thoughts together.</p><p>Finally, he stops and turns to Deuc, “This is all bullshit Deucalion.” Peter states, furious.  “Since when do we try supernaturals in court? Yes, Deaton is dead, but why are we continuing to pussyfoot around Argent? He’s a hunter for pity’s sake!”</p><p>Peter sighs and drops into a chair, head in hands. </p><p>Deuc walks over and clasps his shoulder, “I agree, but I don’t want anyone to look closely. I want to destroy his reputation, and then we’ll destroy him. I knew Deaton would likely pass when we took his link, and it created a fuss. Doing it was necessary, and I'd do it again. I would never ignore my son like that.” Dues sigh, “I want a little time between the two.”</p><p>Deuc’s eyes flash red, and Peter wants to show his neck, “There is no way I will allow that stain to get away with what he has done to my mate and child. Prison is no where near what he deserves. It is certainly not what he’ll get.”</p><p>-</p><p>Peter’s planning something with Deuc in the Alpha’s study. No idea what, but it gives Stiles the chance to see a little more of San Francisco and Muir Woods. </p><p>The trees are so large here. He can feel them exhale magic that tastes like evergreens after a storm. It permeates his lungs and travels up his spine. It’s exhilarating. </p><p>Stiles looks out over the woods as the twins do homework. He looks through some of his mother’s books. The yellow pages crinkle as he gently flips through the large tomb. So many different hands made this book. Many different notes, spells, thoughts, and feelings. Knowledge. It connects him to so many who came before him. </p><p>Deucalion said that it was his mom's grimoire, a very powerful book in its own right, and it belonged to Stiles as the last of the Gajos clan. Deuc had to cover his eyes for a moment on explaining that. The teen’s still getting used to the idea that he has a father who may love him, and who is capable of loving so many others. </p><p>Magic is the most exciting thing he’s ever learned. He still only focuses on the most basic bits like meditation and seeing the threads of magic that pulse through everything, but it’s something that only he can do. Surrounded by people who can shift, heal and take pain, magic makes him feel like he has something that he could one day contribute back. While they still haven’t found him a teacher, Deuc and Peter have helped with answering questions and finding materials.</p><p>It feels like care. </p><p>“Kids!” Ennis yells from the kitchen, interrupting Stiles’ thoughts. “Go ahead and start packing up. Dinner’s almost ready.”</p><p>Peter comes out of the house as they’re just about packed. He pulls Stiles into a hug from behind, aggressively rubbing his cheek into his neck. It makes Stiles giggle a little bit. Peter’s scruff on his neck does it every time. Stiles thinks that’s his goal, with scenting just being an added bonus. Peter plucks everything from the table in front of Stiles before pulling the teen back to the house.</p><p>“Everything okay darling?” Peter whispers in his ear. It makes Stiles shiver. </p><p>“Never better,” Stiles breathes out before kissing his wolf’s cheek. Peter gives his hip a squeeze before they join the rest of his father’s pack at the table.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Argent's gonna diiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeee</p><p>REJOICE</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Chapter 33</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>triggers (last section): derogatory thoughts of women (Stiles' Mom)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chris hunches more deeply into his coat as he leaves the jail, a last ditch effort of winter to strike back before spring fully takes over. Wind ruffles the small hairs on the back of his neck. He pushes up his collar as he makes his way to the car. </p><p>His part in all this is finally over. He can go home.</p><p>-</p><p>Stiles sighs, exasperated.</p><p>“Peter, really?” Stiles asks. A second blanket lands on his head in answer. Stiles huffs again, and settles the new blanket around him anyway. Peter jumps over the back of the couch like it’s nothing, and plops onto the seat next to his mate. The couch dips with the new weight and Stiles falls into Peter’s shoulder. The wolf throws his arm around Stiles like it was his plan to get closer all along. </p><p>It probably was.</p><p> “You act like I’ve never experienced a cold day before,” Stiles rolls his eyes, even as he snuggles deeper into the wolf. Peter runs his hand through Stiles' hair in response. The wolf nuzzles his temple before kissing his cheek.</p><p>Peter leans back into the couch and brings Stiles with him. “I’m sorry darling,” Peter sighs. His fingers trail lightly over his shoulder, back and forth across his collar bone. “I’m not used to you feeling well. Don’t get me wrong! I love that you’re recovering. It’s just instinct to want to look after you. That’s all.”</p><p>Stiles leans more heavily into Peter at the confession. “I do like when you look after me,” he admits, “but maybe you can layoff turning me into a burrito?” Peter chuckles again, and kisses his temple one more time. </p><p>Peter leans his cheek against the top of Stiles’ hunched head. “I can’t make any promises,” he says, “but if you call me on it, I’ll do my best to fix it.”</p><p>“I can live with that,” Stiles laughs as he throws the extra blanket back at Peter. He doesn’t mind, just pulls Stiles deeper into the couch and into him. Stiles turns on the TV. It’s his turn to pick, and there’s nowhere else Peter wants to be. </p><p>-</p><p>It’s May when the jury goes out for deliberation. Stiles waits in the courthouse hall with Peter and Deuc – he asked the packs to stay away today. He didn’t want them to add to the stress of the wait even as they wanted to comfort him. </p><p>It takes a bare few hours for court to be called back in session. Deuc smirks. It’s the shortest return in his career. That bodes well. Stiles still fidgets on the bench next to him. It’s understandable – a group of strangers decide whether the man who was supposed to care for him deserves to be punished. Deucalion wishes that today never had to happen, but glancing down at his son, at least this tragedy brought them together. They know each other exists. It’s an awful and bumpy start, but at least it is a start.  </p><p>Peter stands on Stiles’ other side, and holds out his hand as the bailiff opens the doors. </p><p>“Are you ready?” he asks.</p><p>Stiles gives an uncomfortable smile, but grabs onto Peter’s hand anyway. “No, but it will happen whether I am or not. Won’t it?”</p><p>It’s not the first time that Deuc wishes he could have changed everything. He follows the scent of peonies into court, reminded again of his Marie. It’s almost time to put this to rest. </p><p>-</p><p>John knows the odds. A two hour deliberation. It’s not necessarily a surprise given how the trial went. He glances over at his lawyer before the jury comes into the room – fucking idiot. The little weasel will not be his appeals attorney, not with the farce he put on over the last few weeks. </p><p>John scowls. What an absolute embarrassment. He needs a plan. </p><p>The jury makes their way to their seats, and he scowls at each in turn. None look him in the eye. Of course not. Fucking whimps. If they actually knew what he was fighting against, they’d give him medals and accolades. Freedom.</p><p>John looks over at that bastard with his father and a Hale dog. He should have drowned it when it came out of the bitch. No matter what the Druid said. If he had gotten rid of it, listened to his instincts, he would be a free man now. Well, the Druid’s dead, and he’s left holding the bag. </p><p>Fuck this.</p><p>The guilty verdict barely tears him away from his thoughts. It’s not a surprise. The only thing that’s left for him to look forward to is his planning and the packages that Chris set up. </p><p>Apparently the Matriarch did care for his father, and the American branch. After all, Chris looked in good health, even after Deaton kept him out of the way. It’s his only thought as he’s marched from the courtroom. </p><p>He has one last chance to turn and scowl at the kid, but Stiles doesn’t even notice. He’s wrapped up in the wolves’ arms like some common whore. </p><p>Just like his mother.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So it's been a minute, because life man. Anyways. I think there's probably two more chapters of this guy before it's over. I'm going to try and finish it this weekend, but no promises. When this guy is over, I'll get back to Like Air.</p><p>Let me know what you think or if there's anything you feel is missing! </p><p>Cheers and Happy Weekend!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Chapter 34</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Excited?” Cora asks as they make their way outside. It’s strange how the entire school follows his group outside. Strange how he has a group now. Somehow over the course of four months, he’s gone from being invisible to the popularity pyramid to their group being damn near the top.</p><p>It’s amazing what friends have done for him. How not being afraid every second of every day and having all of his spark to himself gives him the emotional energy to be more to everyone around him. </p><p>“Stiles, you okay?” Aidan asks.</p><p>The question pulls him back to the here and now. “Never better, just not sure what it’s going to be like having all this time on my hands now, you know? It’s so odd. I feel like I can do anything.” Stiles smiles at the twins and Cora. </p><p>Cora bumps her shoulder with his saying, “I’m sure Peter can help with that,” while winking aggressively. </p><p>Stiles nods, blushing. They’ve progressed to heavy kissing, but not much more beyond that. With high school finally over, Stiles hopes for more. </p><p>“Speak of the devil,” Ethan states, arm slung around Danny.</p><p>“And he shall appear,” Aiden finishes. Stiles looks over to where the rest of teens are focused, and blushes even more when he sees his mate. A smile takes over his face as Cora nudges him in Peter’s direction. </p><p>“Go on. He’s been on pins and needles waiting to give you something,” she laughs. Stiles eyebrows draw together.</p><p>“What do you mean?” he asks. Surprises still make him uncomfortable. His anxiety spikes at all the remembered surprises from the man who’s now in prison. Stiles shivers in the June sunshine, and can see Peter start to frown and make his way over. </p><p>Cora just pushes him forward, knowing Peter will take care of it best. “It’s a good thing,” she says placatingly, “I promise.”</p><p>They meet in the middle, Peter with his arms out. The hug feels good. His heart slows down as Peter leads them to the car. If the wolf is calm, he can be too. Most of the high school has gotten used to hugs and arms thrown over shoulders, but neither of them feel comfortable with anything beyond that. </p><p>They close the doors of the Tesla, and Peter turns to Stiles completely. </p><p>“Cora said there’s a surprise,” Stiles says to his raised eyebrow. “Well she didn’t say that exactly, but you know I don’t like surprises,” he trails off. Peter nods and grabs Stiles hand with both of his, kissing the teen’s knuckles. </p><p>Peter looks up, “Remember when we talked about going away for a weekend? Things kept getting in the way. With the trial over and now classes, I thought we could get away for a week or two.” The wolf smiles a bit wider, and kisses his hand one more time, “say...Hawaii?”</p><p>Stiles’ eyes get larger and larger as Peter talks. “Peter, we’re flying somewhere? When are we leaving? Oh my gosh, could we go see the coral reefs? But I don’t know how to swim. Really?” The wolf nods and smiles. “Peter, oh my god, thank you so much! This is amazing!”</p><p>Peter smiles listening to Stiles babble. It’s so wonderfully strange to hear Stiles come into his own, to have enough confidence to speak and be excited.  </p><p>“Well, I may have packed a bag for you. Our flight leaves in a few hours.” Peter kisses Stiles’ hand one more time before buckling in. “We’re headed to the airport. The flight’s almost 6 hours, plenty of time to figure out the perfect plan.”</p><p>“Just us?” Stiles whispers, suddenly shy again.</p><p>“Just us,” Peter responds. </p><p>“It’s already perfect,” Stiles smiles. He grabs his mate’s hand and holds it the entire drive. </p><p>-</p><p>Deucalion’s request for Argent’s placement goes through smoothly. San Quentin makes him shiver every time he looks at the institution, but that’s by design. The warden likes to fuck with inmates on the supernatural spectrum. Deuc smirks. While Argent’s human, he’s still affected given his exposure to the world. Couldn’t happen to a better person. </p><p>The warden expects him. Argent doesn’t. </p><p>He’s led to the warden’s office, and smiles on seeing the other man.</p><p>“Alpha Blackwood, always a pleasure,” the Druid smiles. “Granted, it’s typically under more polite circumstances. I cannot thank you enough for dealing with that human stain in Beacon Hills for us. If anyone had known,” Druid Faust frowns, “Well it would not have happened in the first place. The saplings have been manageed. I’m not sure what that fool thought he was going to do, but I’m glad the Druid Council could aid in the cleanup.”</p><p>Deuc politely interrupts. The man is well known for talking. “We do appreciate your help in that regard. I apologize for the sogginess of the affair. I had to be sure of the iron disruption.”</p><p>“Oh of course, it’s much appreciated. Iron isn’t exactly gentle on a balanced Druid, but I’m getting away with myself. I do believe the plan with Argent will work out. His consumption has gone well beyond those packages.” Faust smirks, and Deucalion cannot help but return it. </p><p>“Shall we get this done then?” the Alpha asks. </p><p>“Lets.”</p><p>-</p><p>John’s not sure where they’re dragging him at 3am six days after his placement in the prison. All he knows is that it’s not good. He tries to fight against the guards marching him through the prison, but it does him no good. Their golden eyes tell him why. </p><p>Terror does not go far enough to describe the way he feels as he’s thrown into an interview room with Blackwood and the Warden. He begins screaming for help even as the guards slam the door in his face. </p><p>“Hello John,” Deucalion smirks with glowing red eyes, “It has been so long since we’ve had a chance to talk. Don’t you agree?”</p><p>John cannot stop shaking in fear, still with his hands cuffed behind his back. He looks to the warden for help, but the man just crosses his arms and leans back in the opposite corner as Blackwood approaches. </p><p>John has no option but to step back. He keeps stepping away until he’s backed into a corner. Blackwood smirks viciously as he steps right into John’s space. Warmth trickles down his leg as the red eyes stare straight into his own. He tries to push back even further, but finds no quarter. The alpha’s nose flairs as he takes in the scent of ammonia.</p><p>He feels the wolf’s breath brush against his neck as the Alpha growls words at him. “You’re a disgusting piece of filth who will live the rest of your short life thinking of this moment. This fear. You brought it to my son, my Mate. You’re going to die here. A small, sad little man that no one in the world will give a fuck about,” the Alpha spits in his face causing John to turn his head and show his neck. “I cannot take back what you’ve done, but I will make you suffer. The man against that wall over there is going to help, you disgusting piece of shit.” </p><p>With that, the Alpha bites viciously into John’s neck. At the first feeling of teeth, John’s eyes fly open. He tries to cover his neck, to stop the flow of blood. He can’t with his hands behind his back, sliding to the floor as the wolf releases him. His pants soak in the puddle of urine. </p><p>The Alpha steps back immediately and spits out a chunk of skin. </p><p>John doesn’t understand. He used everything available to make sure this didn’t happen. “No, this isn’t possible! I used it all. You can’t touch me. Chris said so himself! I’d be protected,” John shouts even as his shoulder bleeds into his orange jumpsuit. </p><p>He’d used all of the repelling soaps, taken the mountain ash tablets that Chris left with the blessing of the Matriarch. Blackwood shouldn’t have been able to break skin. Blood runs from his nose and his ears feel wet. John wipes his lip against his shoulder. It’s not blood. It’s black. </p><p>“Who do you think gave me the idea? Have a nice life Argent. I'm going to enjoy never thinking of you again.” Blackwood rumbles as he leaves the small room. </p><p>John doesn’t notice, too busy vomiting black icor.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So that's it. </p><p>I might add some post-Argent one shots, but I'm happy with this.</p><p>Thank you so much for reading and all of your reviews!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>